


You'll Be Fine

by chalametal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Death Eaters, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Slow Burn, Slytherin, Vampires, Werewolves, arius & the great search for happiness, magically induced mood disorders, no beta we die like men, transfer student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalametal/pseuds/chalametal
Summary: If Arius believed in high powers like gods or fate, he might have believed someone or something up there didn't like him. But he doesn't. Because doing so would admit that someone has any amount of control over his life, and they don't.So when some people—his supposed saviours and family—train him to be a perfect Pureblood son and throw him into the sixth year at Hogwarts... It's a recipe for disaster.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. In the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STARRING...
> 
> REMINGTON LEITH as ARIUS  
> JOAQUIN PHOENIX as VICTOR ARBUTUS  
> BILL SKARSGARD as ORYM  
> CLANCY BROWN as HUGO  
> PETER DINKLAGE as JEDREK  
> ANNE HATHAWAY as CHRISTINE
> 
> PLAYLIST:  
> "You'll Be Fine" at yungchild on Spotify

ARIUS'S introduction to the world was a cold cell floor.

For the first few years of his life, this was his entire world. What extended past the walls of his mother Mallory Evergreen's prison cell didn't matter, because they were unreachable and dangerous. While there were times they could mingle with the other prisoners under heavy surveillance, as a small child, Arius wasn't allowed to. There was little chance he would ever see what the actual world looked like, because there were never any human visitors at the Azkaban Prison and the dementor guards didn't discriminate between inmate and small child that shouldn't have been there. No one out there knew he even existed.

His mother did the best she could for him. As he grew, she sacrificed more of her meagre meals for him. She taught him what she could, ensuring he could speak and even spell small words. Arius learnt his alphabet in the dust of the cell floor, learnt to count on the brick walls. While material possessions and necessities might have been sparse. Arius couldn't say he never felt loved or important. Even battling the dementors' presence, his mother had no shortage of that for him. She promised him, one day, he'd feel the sun on his face, the dirt underneath his bare feet, the contentment of a full stomach, happiness. A full life was waiting for him outside. And he'd get it.

But then she grew ill and, in her illness, she grew weak. There wasn't enough food to keep up her strength, especially not when it was being split between the two of them. Arius could do nothing but watch as her state deteriorated.

He was left with her corpse for a few days before the dementors noticed anything strange.

His first interaction with another human followed this. Arius doesn't know who he was, nor did he know at the time. He might have introduced himself but Arius was a distraught child. The man seemed surprised to see him there and the boy was given the freedom his mother had always promised. He never saw her again. There may have been a funeral, but he wasn't invited. He was questioned extensively on his time there, on how he got there and how long he had been there. His answers only led to more questions, until it seemed the other people resigned themselves to his lack of information.

Arius didn't have a family anymore. He may have had relatives, but none that would claim a bastard son. He didn't know who his father was and none ever came to claim him. First, he was passed onto a small house full of other family-less children. He didn't like them. They didn't like him either. He was too weird for them; they were too weird for him. They didn't bully him, not like they did some of the other kids, but they certainly had nothing to do with him. Eventually, some family decided to take him in. And then they decided they'd had enough of him. Then a different family tried, before it was decided he was clearly a lost cause.

The promise of a new refuge came on his eleventh birthday by owl. Hogwarts: a school for very special children just like Arius, the matron had assured him rather condescendingly. But it wouldn't be the first time she had promised Arius that there was a home for him, people that would take care of him. He had grown tired of that lie months ago.

And that's where our story begins: in Diagon Alley, where the boy decides to finally take matters into his own hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise most chapters aren't this length. This is just a prologue of sorts, disguised as a first chapter.


	2. The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Knockturn Alley  
> Where a cold boy finds happiness and a home.

JULY, 1991  
  
  
  
  


DIAGON Alley is loud. It's loud, busy, and filled with far too many boring shops. Arius follows his guardian around the shops, collecting school supplies, until he has a wand in his hand. The wand, he knows, is important. For now, his magic is uncontrollable, but the wand will give him tool to focus it through. And it's expensive. His meagre allowance would never be able to afford it, not when that allowance is designed to only ever get him a sweet or two on weekends. Not that Arius ever buys those. Though he's not sure what he's saving for, he has slowly been accruing the largest amount of money he's ever seen. And even that isn't large.

Ollivander is a rather underwhelming sort of old man. He looks much like any old man would look, and nothing like the great wandmaker Arius has been told he'd be. Arius had been expecting someone who inspired more awe, not a thin man with a mess of white hair and pale eyes. He could be anyone.

"Good morning." The old man offers Arius and his guardian a warm smile that's only returned by the other adult. "Looking for a wand?"

"Yes, we are. His first wand." Arius continues to stare at the old man until he receives a light touch on his back. His attention shifts from Ollivander to his guardian, a portly woman by the name of Cassandra. "Go on, introduce yourself."

"I'm Arius." The boy responds, turning back to the man to do so. He receives another touch and knows what this is supposed to be prompting. "Arius Evergreen."

"Ah, Evergreen. I remember your mother..." Ollivander comments casually, almost as a means to fill a gap while he thinks. He leaves the pair with little more word, but only to approach one of the shelves of small boxes. Humming thoughtfully to himself, quickly scanning the boxes, he chooses one and pulls it from its spot. He takes this to his desk and removes the wand. This, he then passes onto Arius. "Give it a whirl."

But almost as soon as it touches Arius's fingers, the wandmaker makes a dissatisfied noise and takes it back. He puts it back in its box, before collecting another one. This one is tested with only minutely more success, in that Arius is able to firmly hold it and wave it before it apparently fails. Ollivander disappears further into his shop, his quiet muttering following him, before he returns with another.

This one, as Arius grasps it firmly, feels _right_. He's not sure how, or why, nor could he explain if he was asked. But Ollivander seems to reflect a similar sentiment as he emits a pleased noise. Despite this, the wand is taken from him once again. Arius watches. He wants the wand back.

"Pine, a horned serpent horn core... Hmm, ten inches, pliant. Yes, I believe this one will serve you well." The wandmaker offers Arius a warm smile which remains unreturned. The younger is more interested in the wand between the old man's hands, the thing he's been waiting for all day. It's so close. He wants it. He _needs_ it.

Ollivander takes far too long putting the wand back in its box, accepting the payment from Arius's guardian. The boy continues to watch expectantly, not at all interested in further discussions of the properties of his wand. He doesn't care if it's good for creativity, if it warns the wielder of danger—he can find this out later. He just wants the wand.

Eventually, once they've left the shop, at some insistence on the orphan's part, he's given permission to hold the small box. Next up, at little interest to him, is robes. While he's getting robes, Cassandra informs him that she'll be going to get some books from next door. _Perfect._ Arius nods to her, still holding his wand tightly, and watches as she leaves. The woman inside the store seems busy with another young patron, too busy to notice some boy slip by. Arius watches, he waits, and then he runs out the door.

He's disappeared into the crowd before anyone knows he's even gone.  
  
  


Escaping is easy enough; evading capture is tricker. Arius has been plotting through their last few outings and he knows, should a child get lost, there are spells that might have him found. These spells will lead to his downfall if he can't avoid them. To this, he has a two-part solution: _one_ , keep moving and, _two_ , go somewhere that might hinder the spells. Specifically, head to Knockturn Alley.

While he doesn't know for certain if there is actually anything there that might stop the spells from reaching him, he has reached this assumption that there _might_ be something due to the fact that it's where the darker creatures choose to gather. Every visit to Diagon Alley has brought strict warnings not to head down there, as they could run into any number of bad people that might try to do bad things to them. He has never liked the vagueness of their reasons. And besides, it's not like they don't do bad things themselves. He's seen them do plenty of bad things.

But anyway, Arius's first stop is Knockturn Alley. He gets there with minimal trouble. People seem to be suspicious of him, with the looks he's receiving, but not enough to stop him. He soon finds himself at the entrance of the alley, looking out into its darker surroundings. He can't lie, it is quite _literally_ dark. There is little sunlight trickling through, reliant entirely on the dim street lamps to stop it from descending completely into shadows. There are few people about, but none of them seem overtly horrendous. It is almost a bit of a let-down.

Now here, Arius's plan falters. While he had hoped and planned to arrive here, he honestly hadn't expected the opportunity to be presented to him so easily, nor had he expected to get this far. And, even then, he's never actually been here before. He doesn't really know what's in here, not yet. So, in an effort to keep moving, he decides to explore.

Knockturn Alley, he discovers, is a rather unexciting alley. There are shops and there are people. He barely has the gold for any shops, and he has no interest in dealing with people. About the only things that interest him are a few windows filled with curious objects he's never seen before, and a small, shady library. None of these he stops at, though he makes a vow to come back to the library when he's not trying to remain lost.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Night falls and no one has found him. He has not heard anything that sounds like an orphanage searching for their lost orphan, and no one tries to stop him. Eventually, he starts to get tired and knows he won't be able to stay up all night, even if he wants to. He really would like to. He doesn't really feel safe resting here, not with no secure resting place, but he has no choice. So the boy finds a secluded offshoot of the alley, buried between two buildings. There are other people there, huddling around a magically-summoned heat source. Immediately, Arius realises he's made a mistake; people are dangerous.

But one of the men offers him a smile, one that doesn't seem to hold any malice or ill-intent, and beckons him over, "Got no place to sleep, boy?"

Arius shakes his head, still keeping his distance.

"You can stay with us. We won't bite." One of the others laughs, amused. Perhaps the first man had made a joke Arius doesn't get. "Safer here than out on your own."

"Some of them out there are real nasty." The other, the laugher, comments. He gets a grumble of responses, but none that Arius can make out.

"I have a wand." The younger threatens, though he's aware it isn't much of a threat. He hopes they don't realise his lack of skill. None seem overly concerned.

"We won't take it. That's yours." The man beckons once more. "Keep warm, boy. Don't want to get a cold."

Arius decides his options are limited. Too limited to be picky. And here it is warm, and he is tired. These men don't seem to pose a threat, though he still doesn't trust them. Nonetheless, he takes them up on his offer. One of them offers him some bread, but it's crusty and he struggles to eat it. Another gives him a coat to use as a blanket, claiming a kid shouldn't be left out like this. Eventually, Arius feels relaxed enough to fall asleep. It's a light sleep, not comfortable enough to completely succumb to it, but it's better than nothing.

And still, no one from the orphanage finds him. Typical. He should have expected they wouldn't come looking for him.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


By morning, Arius is still in one piece. He still has his few possessions. He remains untouched. Unharmed. Some of the men have left, some are still asleep, and few are awake. One man, the one who invited him over, notices that he's woken up and offers him another smile.

"Have a good sleep?" He asks, receiving a shrug in response. Arius sits up, the coat falling off his front, and rubs his eyes. "It's a rough sleep out here, but I suppose it's better than it can be. What's a kid like you doing out here?"

"I don't have a home." Arius says, choosing his words carefully. He doesn't want to give too much away, provide too many hints. If someone ever comes looking for him, he wouldn't want these men to lead them straight to him. The other man seems to understand, or at least he nods like he does. He's still smiling.

Too happy. Or, perhaps, Arius isn't happy enough. He sees no reason to be feeling any positive emotions but it wouldn't be the first time he'd been told he wasn't feeling the _right_ emotions. He thinks he's feeling the right emotions. He doesn't see why what he's _feeling_ should be considered incorrect. But maybe they are. He knows, to a degree, that there's something wrong with them. At the very least, happiness remains forever elusive. He knows of it, knows it by definition, knows what it looks like on others. But when he smiles, the other children at the orphanage get unsettled and he receives a scolding. When other children are showing happiness, he feels empty.

The sight of the man's smile brings a spark of frustration. It just isn't fair. He ran away to escape them, but still they chase him. Maybe he'll never be free. He can run all he wants, but they'll always be there. Right behind him, whispering in his ear. _You're weird_. _There's something wrong with you_.

Frustrated, he leaves not long after. He decides to pay a visit to that library. It didn't look very big, but it'll give him something to do. Who knows? Maybe he'll find something the cures his issues.

The library is as small on the inside as it looks on the outside. A few bookshelves fill the front room with only one desk, all full of deep shadows. The librarian, a thin, pale woman that looks more skeletal than human, sits at a desk and barely acknowledges Arius. She doesn't even ask what he's reading, doesn't raise an eyebrow when he collects a small pile of books with 'ritual' in the title. He takes the pile to the desk, fortunately empty, and begins his long task of working through them.

He doesn't move for hours. Well, he _moves_ —he turns pages, switches books, shuffles in his seat—but he doesn't get up once. His search remains fruitless, just a mass of texts that don't provide him an answer. But he doesn't feel any loss of hope, doesn't have anything better to do, and so he doesn't stop. Page after page, he skims through information that's probably interesting but useless to him. The librarian moves around, asks if he wants a drink once (he gets a water once he's certain it's free), but otherwise doesn't bother him.

And then... something appears. In 'Rituals for the Curious Wizard', he finds a page titled 'A Long Life is a Happy Life'.

' _This ritual will grant your heart's desire. It may be the key to your happiness. And, if not, you'll have the rest of your life to figure it out._ ' Arius's interest is piqued and he pays a little more attention to the words of this page. ' _Of course, a promise such as that doesn't come without a cost and this one is grave. The ritual itself is simple: you will need fresh blood, and a lot of it. We recommend using someone else, as sometimes it may require a whole body of blood. Once you have your blood, you will be able to take the magic from it and transfer it into something else (an inanimate object is recommended!). To do so, you must move your wand in a circular motion as provided in the diagram below and do so with intent. There isn't an incantation with this so you must be very careful to ensure the spell works._

_'While it should be noted that this spell won't literally grant your wishes (unless your wish is to live longer), it will increase your life span significantly. This way, you will have more time to work on what you want without the hassle of things like mortality!_

_'As mentioned, and it is important to consider this, the price of such a gift is not cheap as nothing to do with life or death ever is. Should you successfully complete this ritual, you may find yourself half the person you were before. To cope with this, you may find yourself relying on physical possessions more so than before..._ '

Flashing a glance at the librarian, who is idly flicking through the pages of a book of her own, Arius carefully rips the page out. He stuffs it in his pocket, before he leaves the small building. He doesn't bother putting his books away, too preoccupied with his growing plans.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[** ⚠️ **\- self harm, based off the aforementioned ritual ]**  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Arius waits until later in the evening to even attempt the ritual. He spends the rest of the day roaming the streets, still holding on to the shred of suspicions that someone might be after him. He's not surprised the orphanage hasn't found him yet—probably glad to be rid of him—but now he also has a stolen page on his person too. He destroyed someone's property. The librarian might be looking for him too, even just to scold him for not putting his books away. She might even send him back to the orphanage as punishment.

So he doesn't risk stopping. He can't—his body won't let him. Every time he stands still for too long, he can feel himself tense up, the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle painfully. Every whisper becomes a threat, every passerby a captor.

When night falls, he feels safer. The dark alley is shrouded in deeper shadows and the streets grow quieter. The people out are likely more dangerous, but they don't seem to be interested in the eleven year old boy. They have other business to attend to, and don't stop Arius from attending his own. His first order of business is finding a secluded offshoot or gap between two buildings, the latter of which is what presents itself to him. The shady crevice is void of life and a large bin blocks most of the view of the main street. The dark haired boy scurries behind the bin, flattening the page out on the ground beside him. It's too dark to read the writing on it but it doesn't matter; he has the words memorised already.

Blood. Unable to acquire someone else, Arius will have to make do with his own. There is no way someone of his size and power could hold someone down long enough to collect what he needs anyway.

Biting his arm doesn't work. He'd thought it might, if he dug his teeth in hard enough, but he can't hold it down long enough to break the skin. It hurts too much and his jaw reflexively loosens. His arm throbs with multiple attempts, but does not give him what he needs.

Taking his wand in his grip, Arius points it at his other hand. He doesn't know the first thing about using or controlling magic but, if the ritual's instructions are anything to go by, intent is important. Perhaps he doesn't need a spell. He just needs to tell it what to do...

Arius presses the tip of his wand against the middle of his palm. Staring at it intently, he imagines the wand turning into a knife. In his head, it provides him with a clean slice across his palm. In reality, it does nothing. He frowns, pushing the thought harder. He feels something warm in his core and holds onto it, pulling at it. The shapeless sensations morphs into something sharper—shaky and weak, but no less sharp. He feels a spark of pain blossom on his palm and moves his wand. The pain moves with it, expanding, and a sticky warmth begins to spread across his hand. He did it. The blood starts dripping over the sides, hitting the ground with quiet splatters. He did it. The pain is overwhelmed by his pleasure in his success, in his pride. He used magic. He cut his hand.

It soon becomes apparent, after an experimental flick of his wand, that the blood spreading across the ground isn't enough. It might eventually be enough, but it's all too slow. Following the same process, Arius creates more cuts in his skin. Deeper ones that drip faster and the puddle beneath him grows larger. But it's still not enough. Happiness hovers just around the corner—so close he feels he could touch it—but it's still unobtainable.

He just wants to _feel_. He just wants to feel something other than fear, anger, sadness. He wants to know what it feels like to genuinely smile or laugh and not have his cheeks ache with tension. He wants to love, to be loved again, to be _normal_.

In the darkness, his arms are covered in thick, inky shadows. He's ruined the piece of paper and his clothes, but the blood has pooled. He's not sure if it's the night or his vision growing darker. The feeling in his arms has disappeared, desensitised to the constant stinging of the cuts. He can't even feel that. Pathetic. In an act of sheer desperation, the fear that he might really be losing consciousness, he grabs wildly at the warmth inside of him. He pulls it unwillingly out, pushing as much as he can into his wand.

The wand lets out a soft chime.

The warmth turns into a blaze and he's on fire. He doesn't feel anything, though, because he's already collapsed in his own blood. He doesn't feel the magic tearing at his body, at his core, ripping it to shreds. He doesn't feel at all. He's surrounded by darkness.   
  
  


**[** ⚠️ **\- self harm over ]**  
  
  
  


And then he's falling. Plummeting. The darkness turns into light, and then it turns red. He lands on the ground with a hard thump, but doesn't feel the pain he should. He realises now that he doesn't feel anything. His body is numb, floating. He gets to his feet quickly and is faced with the flashing lights of an unreadable sign, right beside another flashing sign in the shape of an arrow that points towards a door. Apart from the tall building, the area is empty. There's someone sitting on the ground, head in his arms, but he doesn't move. He looks older than Arius, but not by much—not yet an adult, but not quite a boy. Thin, curled up defensively, he looks weak. Arius chooses not to bother him.

He follows the sign. He figures something as obnoxious as that should be followed. Inside is a hallway, filled with similarly empty individuals. They don't acknowledge him, lost in their own pity. One wails and Arius feels the first things he's felt since landing here: _fear_. Something inside of him tells him he's not supposed to be here, that he needs to get out. But his feet keep him moving towards to the door at the end of the hallway, where another flashing sign awaits him. This one reads 'OPEN'.

Inside is a dimly lit bar, nearly void of patrons. In one of the booths is another young man, turning a drink slowly in his hands. He looks sad. The only other person in the bar is the bartender, who looks Arius up and down when he approaches.

"Where am I?" He asks once he's close enough, having to stand on the tips of his toes to face the man properly. The man offers him a surprisingly kind smile as he laughs softly, shaking his head. 

"Somewhere you're not supposed to be."

Arius frowns, "Why not?"

"You're not old enough." The man barely explains, only eliciting more annoyance from the boy. "It's not your time yet."

"I want to know where I am."

The bartender shrugs, "That's up to you. It's your place... just not yet."

"Then how do I go back to where I was?" Arius decides he doesn't like this man very much. He glares at him, unmoving. While it doesn't seem to faze him, he does point back towards the door with a vague gesture.

"Go back out. There's another door. Just go through it." He instructs him, about the most helpful he's been. Though Arius is certain he didn't see any other doors out there. Still, it won't hurt to check. He'll just come back if he doesn't see anything. "Oh, and tell that other boy to come in. No point him sitting out there like that."

The other boy hasn't moved when Arius leaves the building. There is, in fact, another door. It wasn't there before, but it does sit there now. Once again, flashing lights decorated the edges of it, beckoning. The odd thing is, it's not connected to anything. It's just a tall, red door in the inky shadows. The younger approaches the sitting male, standing over him for a brief moment.

"You should go in." The stranger finally moves, a soft rustle as he raises his head. Blonde hair sticks to his face in wet spikes on his head, black roots consuming the white. Dark shadows encircle his eyes, deepening an already angular face. He has the look of someone who is about to give up, someone who is teetering on the edge and only needs one small push before he loses it all.

"What?" He asks in a weak rasp, detached.

"You should go inside." Arius repeats himself, but doesn't receive any sign that the boy registers what he said. "The bartender said you should."

"Oh..." The boy shakes his head softly. "Right."

"If you're wondering where you are, don't bother. He won't tell you." Arius feels it only right to inform him.

"Right." The boy doesn't seem to want to talk much, but he pushes himself to his feet all the same. Standing up, he's a lot taller than Arius. But he still looks so small. Like a puppy that's been beaten. And yet it's him that looks down at Arius and says, "Look– Look after yourself... okay?"

"I will. I do." The taller one nods absentmindedly. "You should too."

"I– Yes. I should."

"Goodbye." Arius says, now impatient to see what lies behind the door.

"Goodbye, Arius." With slow strides, the stranger leaves to the building. Arius walks in the opposite direction, towards the door. Once he reaches it, gripping the doorknob conveniently within his reach, he twists it and pulls it open. White light streams through the other side.

With a deep breath, he takes a step forward and goes into the light. 


	3. A Series of Firsts

ARIUS is no longer in the cold floor of the secluded crevice when he wakes. He is somewhere else, somewhere warm and comfortable. There's a pillow and a mattress underneath him, a blank wrapped on top of him. Panic surges through him as he reaches the only logical conclusion that he's back at the orphanage. Maybe he never even escaped and it was all just a dream. All just a cruel dream.

But opening his eyes tells him he's not in the orphanage. He's not anywhere that he recognises. A low, cream ceiling stares back at him, too dull to be a hospital. He glances to his right and sees an equally cream wall. His left reveals the rest of the room, which isn't very big; all he can see there is a heavily curtained window, a tall bookshelf holding one side of the curtains closed and a desk pressing the other side down. He's definitely in someone's house. But the question of who remains. And, of course, if they pose a threat.

Not waiting to find out, Arius attempts to push himself upright, only to find that sends pain down his arms. Not expecting the pain, he loses his balance with a yelp and falls back onto the bed. The creak of springs follows, bouncing him ever so gently. In the other room, obscured by a wall, he hears footsteps. He's doomed.

A thin man enters. Dark hair is slicked back from his face, tucked behind his ears. He wears a suit, but its evident age and wear rids it of any formality. But, more unmistakably, red eyes pierce Arius with a shocking amount of concern. The concern turns to surprise, and then relief.

"You're awake. Be careful; your arms haven't healed completely yet." He comments simply, quietly. Arius stares at him from the bed. Unwilling to remain prone, he attempts to push himself upright using his core muscles alone. He would have remained unsuccessful, had the stranger not realised what he was attempting to do and helped him up. The man's touch is gentle, barely a whisper, but strong enough to support him. "Can you speak?"

"Of course." Arius responds, only to discover his throat aches terribly. It's like he's back in Azkaban and they ran out of water hours ago. It's dry and he desperately needs water. "I need water."

The man leaves to fetch him a glass and, in that time, Arius examines himself. He's no longer wearing the clothes the orphanage gave him, but instead a t-shirt far too large for him and a pair of loose shorts. His arms are covered in bandages that he can feel wrap all the way up to his shoulders. When he tries, he can barely move his fingers and that sets himself into a panic once again. His dry throat constricts further, cutting off all oxygen. He can't move his fingers. Why can't he move his fingers?

The man returns and passes him the glass, only to discover Arius's fingers can't wrap around it tight enough to secure his grasp. The man has to hold the glass against Arius's lips for him to drink and the boy feels pathetic. But the cool water soothes his throat and spreads throughout his warm insides. It's a small relief, but a relief nonetheless.

"What's your name, kid?" The man asks once Arius has finished the water.

"Arius."

"What were you doing in that alley, Arius?"

"A spell." Arius responds simply, deciding that's all the man needs to know. It doesn't seem to please the older male as he raises a questioning eyebrow.

"A spell?" He repeats, but only gets a nod as an answer.

"What's your name?"

"Victor." The man answers, establishing a silent trade. A question for a question; an answer for an answer. "What sort of spell would have you try and kill yourself?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself." Arius honours the trade as he also attempts to protect his pride. The man sounds condescending, judgemental, when he just doesn't understand. "I just wanted to feel happy."

"I didn't realise we were still living in the days of bloodletting..." Victor comments dryly, but the younger doesn't understand. All he knows is that the older man is still judging him. The annoyance in Arius grows. "Where are you from? How did you end up in Knockturn?"

"Why am I here?" Arius asks, refusing to answer anymore questions until his own is answered. The other man seems to realise this, or at least obliges regardless.

"I found you in the alleyway—I could smell the blood from miles away. But I realised you were just a kid so I picked you up and brought you here before anyone could do anything to you. I assumed someone would be missing you." As the man pauses, Arius feels that sadness filling him. It puddles in the pit of his stomach, churning uncomfortably. At the same time, he can feel it rolling up his stomach, the cold freezing his insides. "Is anyone missing you?"

"No. I'm all by myself." Disappointment flashes across Victor's face. Arius doesn't see why he's disappointed. He's not the one with no family.

"You can stay here until your arms have healed, then we'll figure out what to do with you." Victor assures him. "But, if you cause any trouble, I'll kick you out, you understand?"

By way of response, suddenly and against his will, the water Arius just drank rolls up his throat and he throws up.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In time, sped up by Victor's expensive jar of salve, Arius's arms heal. His fingers still remain stiff and slow, even if some responsiveness does return. He can hold a fork or a glass enough to function, but it's like he's learning everything all over. Just a toddler fumbling clumsily. He feels always embarrassed at dinner, even if Victor doesn't seem to care.

In this time, Arius has largely been stuck in the small apartment. He doesn't mind it so much. At least, in here, he feels safe from prying eyes; he feels safe from anyone that might be looking for him. Though he has largely lost the belief that someone might want him back, he still can't destroy that one bit of fear—or, even hope, because it would mean someone cared. But, within the house, it doesn't bother him so much.

What does bother him is boredom. There isn't a lot for a small boy to do within the apartment. There are books, but they are boring and the pages are hard to turn; and there is a painting that moves and talks sometimes of a kind, young woman who claims to be Victor's mother. When she is around, Arius doesn't mind her company. He prefers Victor's company better, however, as he is a living man and not just a memory. But Victor does things during his day that he says don't concern Arius. There are a lot of things about Victor that don't concern Arius. Slowly, the older man has been revealing things to him when he asks, opening up. He knows that Victor is a vampire, someone that was once human but is now less human and needs blood to survive, and very old; he knows, just like Arius, he has no family, no parents still alive. But that is all he knows. 

Victor always comes back at night with food. Except for this night, when he returns empty handed. Well, not completely empty-handed. After settling in, taking his coat off and letting out a soft sigh, he enters the living room that has also become Arius's bedroom. In his hands, he holds a thin book which he holds out towards the boy. Arius takes it, staring at the brightly printed cover. A man on the cover appears to be mid-flight fighting another man.

"What is it?" Arius asks as he turns the first page. Another title page, another drawing, faces him. The next page has the same, now smaller and with pieces of text.

"It's a comic." Victor explains, gesturing vaguely at the book. "When's your birthday?"

Arius ponders this for a brief moment, "A week ago." Victor raises an eyebrow, question clear but unspoken: _Really?_ "That's when I got free."

"Alright. Well, happy birthday... for then." Victor offers him a a small smile and he sits on couch beside him. He presses a hand carefully on Arius's shoulder, just above the bandages. It's a comforting gesture. "I have given it some thought and... You're a good kid, Arius. A stupid kid, maybe, but a good one. You've got nowhere to go, I can't let you roam the streets by yourself in any good conscience. If you want, I was thinking, I could take you in properly. We could get you a proper bed."

Arius's immediate reaction is one of distrust. It flares inside of him, uncontrollable, and he searches for the emptiness of a false promise. But Victor hasn't done anything to suggest as much yet, doesn't seem to hold any ulterior motives. His grip on his shoulder is warm, not tight enough to be confining.

"That would be fine." Arius responds, fighting the need to push away. He receives a smile that makes him feel a little better, reassures him of his trust.

"Good. We'll do that tomorrow, if you're feeling up for it." Victor removes his hand, leaving a cold patch in its wake. "But, first, let's get pizza."

Getting dressed is tricky. The only clothes that probably fit Arius are his olds ones, which have been magically cleaned of all the blood. But Arius looks at them and sees his old life. He doesn't want to put them on, doesn't want to go back. So he refuses. He expects a fight—there's always a fight when he doesn't want to do something. He expects to lose.

"Alright." Victor surprises Arius by giving in immediately. The boy doesn't believe it at first, certain he misheard. But the older man just grabs a belt, helps Arius put it on properly, and then rolls up the bottom of his shorts so they fit as well as they can. His shirt gets tucked into his shorts, incredibly uncomfortable. Arius doesn't like it at all but, having received one victory, he decides not to push it.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Arius doesn't know what pizza is, or what a pizzeria looks like. Victor promises he'll like it, but the younger still has no form of reference. He sticks close to the older man, holding onto his hand to ensure he doesn't lose him. Knockturn Alley isn't big or busy enough for him to feel any concern, but Victor has taken him out into the muggle streets where there are far more muggles than there are criminals. The streets are full of people and, right beside the streets, loud machines pass by at alarming speeds. It's all rather alarming and foreign, even if he's assured it's completely normal.

The pizzeria is a small store with only a few customers inside, but plenty of tables for them to sit at. The man at the counter, who might also be a cook, seems to recognise Victor. Pleasant greetings are exchanged, during which Arius is introduced as Victor's ward and it's established that Victor comes here often enough to have a 'usual'. With the order paid for before Arius can even figure out what it is, the pair sit down at one of the tables and wait. Arius's shirt bunches uncomfortably, held tight by the belt, and he pulls at it. The action does nothing to help him.

"What was it like... _before_?" Victor asks as they wait. Arius knows what he's asking, but he doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about the years spent after Azkaban, surrounded by people who don't care about him. He doesn't want to think about how, compared to Azkaban of all places, how cold it felt. How the children seemed to think he was a criminal just because of where he was born, how he had no friends because they all thought he was too strange. Even the matron and her assistants. No one cared.

"It was bad." He responds curtly, moving to play with the two little jars filled with powders. Victor seems to get the message and doesn't push it. They remain in silence until the pizza has arrived.

Pizza, Arius discovers, is like a round sandwich if the top was taken off. Of course, it doesn't look like any sandwich Arius has eaten, but it's close enough. This one is covered in a brown sauce, meats, and melted cheese. The younger dips his finger in a wet part of the brown, showing it to Victor.

"What's this?" He asks, before licking it. It's sweet, but not in the candy way. It's weird.

"Barbecue sauce." Victor takes a piece of the pizza, resting it between his fingers. Watching carefully, Arius attempts to replicate the action. He almost loses all his toppings in the process. With the pizza resting between his fingers, thankfully in one piece, he takes a bite.

This is, quite literally, the best thing Arius has ever eaten. It doesn't taste like sandwiches, or even soup, or porridge. Nothing at the orphanage tasted like this, nothing he had with his almost-families did either. The barbecue sauce is strong, but it tastes good with all the meats and cheese.

The corner of Arius's lip pulls up as his jaw clenches. He's conflicted between wanting to eat and wanting to obey the twitch. His whole body feels like it's clenching, joints and muscles growing tight. His lips stretch, showing teeth and probably pizza. Tingles run through his body.

He laughs, unintentionally, trying to get rid of the weird feeling. It's a stiff laugh—more of a 'ha ha ha' than anything natural—but it's his laugh. There's an edge to it that's not normally there, something that makes the laugh uncontrollable. Victor watches him curiously. Arius feels his throat close up and the laughter starts to slow, quietening to a giddy giggle. His body still feels locked, buzzing. He takes another bite of pizza.

He doesn't know what he's feeling, but he knows it must be good. It feels good, despite also feeling uncomfortable and unfamiliar. This discovery brings more of the feeling as he realises the ritual must have worked. He can feel good.

"Are you okay?" Victor asks once the boy seems to have settled. Jaw still clenched in a tight smile, Arius nods his head quite eagerly. Of course he's alright.

Arius decides, right then and there, that he loves pizza.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The following day, Arius has to go outside again. Going outside means dressing properly and, having had a small success yesterday, the boy attempts to refuse wearing the shirt. He doesn't like the shirt. It's uncomfortable and all the other ones remind him of the orphanage. The orphanage always had such strict shirt rules. _Tuck your shirt in. Keep it ironed. Don't get food on it. Arius, stop getting it dirty and blaming it on the other boys_.

Once again, Victor surprises him by letting him win. The compromise, however, is that he has to wear one of Victor's jackets instead. Arius's arms are still covered in bandages and they draw attention, Victor warns. Besides, the jacket is more comfortable than the shirt and so Arius accepts the compromise easily.

They have to go to the muggle stores again, though. Apparently Victor isn't able to shop at most wizarding stores outside of Knockturn, sometimes even in Knockturn, on account of him being a vampire. Arius thinks this is strange but, given the wizards he's met, he's not surprised. It doesn't make him any happier to go into the muggle world, however. He really doesn't like those cars.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Once, long ago, Victor had wanted a family. He'd had dreams of the woman he'd marry, the kids they'd raise together on his family's manor where they'd want for nothing. It had been a nice dream. A dream that had been stripped from him the night he was cruelly turned and he lost everything. From that night onwards, he knew he would never have a family. He couldn't have a child, he wouldn't turn one into a vampire to sate such a desire, and he would never adopt one. The world is too cruel a place for someone to be the child of a vampire. That would curse just like he'd been cursed.

Of course, decades later, he doesn't view his vampirism as so much of a curse anymore. It can be a burden at times, but not a curse. That is so dramatic, and he's long since outlived any need for that. Despite this, he maintained his vow not to have a child. The world hasn't improved enough for that.

That was until he found Arius, drenched in his own blood, barely alive. In fact, for a few brief moments, Arius had been dead—Victor had felt the life slip from him. For a few seconds, the vampire had feared the unconscious boy had died within his arms. But, whether it be by Victor's attempt as resuscitation or something else, the boy lived. Victor took him home, cleaned him up, and let him rest. Which he did for a few days. And, during those days, Victor fretted that there might be someone out there missing their child, that said child might die in his house and no one would ever know their child had passed. He couldn't exactly take him anywhere—that would be his own personal death warrant—and there are few places one can comfortably leave an unconscious child in the hopes that they might be found and brought to safety. He was stuck with the child.

When Arius woke and revealed that there was in fact no one worrying about him, Victor cursed his luck. Here he was, with too much of a conscience to throw the child out, but in no position to care for a child. So he kept Arius there, all while looking for an opportunity to pass him on. One never came and, unfortunately or fortunately, he even found himself growing attached to the quiet boy.

Arius doesn't feel like a son. But he does feel like he could grow to become one. That thought scares Victor. It also alights that little flicker of hope, revives those dreams.

The boy flinches as a truck goes by, loud and obnoxious. Visibly, he doesn't react much, but Victor feels his grip tighten. His grip, generally, isn't very strong; there is some strength, but it's mostly reliant on Victor holding him there. Victor assumes, from what little frustration the boy has expressed, that this is only a recent issue he's been suffering from.

Arius doesn't seem one to express his emotions much. Frustation is one Victor can pick up on clear as day. Pleasure is a little harder, but he thinks the boy enjoyed the pizza.

The vampire adjusts his grip on the umbrella resting in his free hand, turning it ever so slightly forwards to follow the position of the sun. He might be covered from head to toe—an odd sight for Summer—but even that doesn't bring him complete comfort in walking around outside. One false move and he might end up exposed to the sun, which would leave him dead if he got stuck for too long. Even a few seconds in the sun leaves him with a killer sunburn. There aren't enough shades across the pathway, but fortunately the shopping centre grows closer.

Inside, Victor is glad to lose the umbrella and coat. Even a vampire can feel the heat all bundled up, and he was starting to worry he might suddenly start sweating.

The first order of business is clothes. Arius seems none too pleased with the options presented to him when they enter the first shop. He stares at the brightly patterned t-shirts, offering absolutely no verbal or visual approval of the clothing. Victor had thought his issue with shirts had been the ones at home but, after suggesting four to him, only to be turned down each time, he's beginning to suspect it might be more than just those shirts. He barely manages to convince Arius to choose two white t-shirts, as a precaution more than anything, before he moves on.

"I like those." Arius comments as they walk slowly through the clothes, pointing at the neon pink singlets on the other side of the tops area. Victor is so pleased he grabs two of them before the boy can change his mind. Pants are considerably easier as Arius seems content enough to accept two pairs of jeans and some shorts. He even chooses a pair of overalls, ignoring the stares from a mother shopping for her daughters in the same section. Victor also thinks she should mind her own business. He also gets two more jackets, these ones better fitting than the one he currently has on.

Once clothes have been bought, the pair agree they should get some food before moving onto the rest of the shopping. In the centre of the mall is a food court—a few tables and chairs surrounded by cheap restaurants, if they could even be called that. After looking at them all, Arius decides he wants a burger.

He decides, five minutes later, after taking the first bite, that he doesn't want a burger. The sad excuse for one gets pushed to the side as the boy instead drinks his lemonade, scrunching up his nose every time he takes a gulp. He looks like he's in pain, but still goes back for more.

"Are you okay?" Victor asks as Arius's expression once again contorts into that of pain. The boy nods his head, in the middle of taking another sip.

"It hurts." He explains, straw clenched between his teeth.

"You don't have to drink it if you don't want to."

Arius shakes his head, "It tastes good." Victor decides to just let him be. He also decides to let him be when the boy starts going after his chips, despite not wanting any before.

The boy eats the first chip slowly, uncertainly. But, something seems to click as his head shoots up to look at Victor. His lips stretch wide like an exaggerated, forced smile. It looks like it'd hurt his lips or his cheeks.

"These are good." He informs the vampire, so Victor assumes his reaction is a positive one. The younger lets out a short bark of a laugh, snatching another chip like a snake leaping at its prey. The laugh sounds more like a giggle, but a harsh one. Victor doesn't know what to make of it. Arius then goes back to his lemonade, grasping it between his two hands, drinking far too fast for someone in pain.

Victor really doesn't know what to make of him. 


	4. A Hand to Hold

ARIUS has never held someone's hand before. Not properly, not for as long as he's been hold Victor's today. Maybe it's because he's never really had someone's hand to hold, or maybe it's because he's been incredibly out of his comfort zone all day. He's not sure. He's not really sure what to make of any of this.

Victor has taken him to a dimly lit shop deep within Knockturn. A tattoo parlour, Victor informs him, which is for permanent images on his skin. He'll need some if he's going to live in Knockturn with Victor. Special ones, for safety. Victor seems very concerned with reassuring Arius that they're very important, might hurt a little but will be worth it.

"We can do them magically, which hurts less, but the magic isn't as strong." The tattoo artist explains as he settles Arius into the chair. Victor nods, hovering beside the boy. His hand is resting near Arius's, so the younger decides to take it. His hand is cold but the pressure is comfortable, not that Arius is uncomfortable. Victor looks uncomfortable, if anything.

The tattoo, once it hits the inking process, does start to sting a little. The man has to ink little runes into Arius's chest and he worries that breathing might ruin it. The man assures him he can in fact breathe, after noticing that the boy was holding his breath, but it doesn't entirely comfort Arius. As the artist finishes a rune and mutters an incantation, a warmth spreads through the stinging area. It doesn't really make Arius feel any better. But, the stinging isn't anything he can't handle. He remains quiet during the whole process and doesn't flinch.

Soon his chest has small dark lines, red and splotchy, all across them. The stinging hasn't stopped, but it has lessened minutely since the man stopped drawing new ones on him. The ordeal isn't over, however, as he then rubs a salve across the tattoos and wraps them all in a cover. Under his shirt, it's tight and uncomfortable. He just wants to rip it off, but has already been scolded for fidgeting with it. He frowns at the tattoo man, taking in the deepest breath he can within the confines.

"We have one more stop." Victor informs him once they're out on the shady street. Not wanting to hold the older man's hand again, starting to grow uncomfortable with how much he feels the need to cling to him, Arius closes his hands into fists and bunches them at his side. It feels stiff but it's better than reflexively reaching out the second he starts growing concerned. He's survived so long by himself—he doesn't need anyone to feel safe.

They walk further into the darker streets of Knockturn, to the brightest building on the street. A deep red neon sign lights up the front of the building and, for a moment, confusion rises up inside of Arius. But, unlike the building in his dreams, Arius can read the words of this sign. Suckers' Supper Club, the sign reads in its bright, curling letters.

The inside of the club is dimly lit in the glow of dark blue lights that exaggerate the shadows. Small booths fill the majority of the space, following the wall closely. There is an area reserved for a dance floor, but it remains unused for its intended purpose and instead houses a few individuals choosing to stand rather than sit. Victor takes Arius to the bar, where a tall woman stands. Thick black hair is pulled into a tight bun, leaving the tattoos that start at her jaw and travel down into her clothing exposed. A silver dragon crawls around her neck, blowing inked smoke out every now and then. Her eyes and teeth glow white as she flashes the pair a wide smile.

"Victor, I've been expecting you. Who's this?" Her voice carries a heavy accent that Arius can't label, but does nothing to reduce the friendliness in her tone. Even as she glances at Arius curiously, the boy doesn't sense any ill-intent from her.

"This is Arius, my new housemate and ward." Arius appreciates that he led with housemate.

"Pleased to meet you, Arius. I'm Anona." The woman offers a hand over the booth. Immediately the boy notices the way her fingernails glow in bright colours. Rather than shake her hand, he fixates on this instead.

"I like your nails." He comments, resulting in Anona's smile only growing wider. She withdraws her hand to look at her nails, as if she'd forgotten what they looked like.

"Thank you. I painted them myself. I could paint yours too, some time, if you wanted." The younger looks from Anona to Victor, uncertain. He's certain he'd like to have colourful nails too, but he's still uncertain about Anona. He doesn't know her—this could all be her trap.

"I can bring you around one night. We could have dinner here instead." Victor tells him when he notices the glance. Nodding his head, Arius looks down at his plain nails. They're chewed and uneven, not like hers which are all neat and uniform. "I need a drink though, for this evening."

"Figured as much. Does he too?"

"No, not like that. He's human."

Anona nods her head, understanding, before she gestures to the other side of the room, "Go right in. I'll just put it on your tab."

The pair head off towards the door in the direction Anona pointed at, past the few patrons sitting in the booths. The door opens to a hallway and a series of new doors. Victor seems to know where they're going, as he doesn't even pause like Arius does. Fortunately, the hesitation only lasts a second and no distance is gained between them. The boy follows Victor to the door at the end, which has a small sign hanging from a nail. It reads vacant, but the older man turns it so it now reads full. After doing so, the pair enter what seems to be a small sitting room. A table and chairs composes the minimal contents of the room, with a few paintings decorating on the wall.

"Victor, how are you?" The woman asks, offering a smile to the pair.

"Well, thank you, Christine. Yourself?" The woman—Christine—nods her head as if that answers the question. Suddenly, Victor places a hand on Arius's shoulder. "This is Arius. Don't mind him."

"Hello, Arius." She greets him, still smiling pleasantly. Arius just nods his head. He looks up towards Victor, who is already looking at him.

"Here..." Victor says before he moves away, grabbing one of the chairs from the table. He carries it further away from Christine but closer to Arius, placing it down beside him. "Sit here, please." Arius frowns, looking from Victor to the chair. When he determines there's no harm from sitting in it, he does so. He's now facing the opposite direction of the table and Christine, which makes his neck prickle uncomfortably. "You brought your comic with you, didn't you?"

"You put it in your bag." Arius responds as he points to the satchel hanging at the older man's waist. Victor nods, remembering. He opens the satchel, reaching in far too deep for the size of the bag, and passes the comic to the boy.

"I have to feed now. It's better if you don't watch."

"Alright." As Victor moves out of Arius's view, the brunet turns his attention to the comic. He opens on the first page, despite having already read it, because he likes the pictures. He's less interested in the words, not when the brightly coloured superhero is flying across his page. Besides, the story confuses him. He doesn't really know what's going on. It's easier to fill in the gaps.

There's a soft gasp behind Arius—from Christine, too high in pitch to be from Victor—but the boy doesn't turn around. _Sometimes_ it's better to do what he's told and he assumes this is one of those times. Instead he pushes the page of the comic over, turning it. The superhero has finished flying, landing in front of a woman who looks surprised to see him. In the next square, they're holding one another. Arius stares at this square a little longer. It's yet another thing he can recognise, but doesn't really know what it feels like. One of his foster parents tried it after their first meeting, but she has seemed unhappy with his response. He'd found that strange, as he'd barely responded at all. Either way, he actively avoided people coming at him with open arms from then on. Not that they did that often. But this pair looks happy. Maybe that's what he'd been doing wrong. He had to look happy.

He turns the page again, forgetting to read the rest of the squares. They weren't that interesting anyway—the superhero and his friend were just talking before he left. Now he's flying again and that's more interesting. Especially when he spots someone else in fancy dress and flies down to him. This newcomer, he beats up. Arius doesn't know why. He assumes it was because he too was in fancy dress. He turns the page.

A few pages later, Arius grows tired of looking at the superhero and his attention starts to waver. He looks at the door in front of him but, even in the lighting, it's boring. So is the wall. The ceiling. The floor. The door knob. Boring. He turns his gaze to his hand, lifting it away from the comic. They're growing stronger but still not what they used to be. He clenches it into a fist slowly, before releasing it again.

It's then that he realises there are no noises coming from behind him. None at all. It's silent. Before he can even consciously reach a conclusion, his body has already started reacting. A painful rush that feels akin to pains and needles only with out the tingling rushes from his ears to his fingers, tightening his chest and filling him with a painful sort of warmth. If he can't hear anything behind him, then they must be gone. That's why Victor wanted him to turn around. His hand starts shaking and he can't make it stop, not even when he clenches it and holds it tight within his other hand. That only makes both his hands shake. His ears start to feel like they're straining as he desperately searches for a noise. He can't bring himself to turn around. He doesn't want to turn around and be right. Worse, he doesn't want to turn around and see someone who might take him back to the orphanage. Maybe that was Victor's ploy all along.

But he has to do something. Through clenched teeth, to the point where they already ache, he asks weakly, "Victor?"

There's more silence. He's been abandoned.

"Yeah, Arius?" The relief Arius feels when he hears the older man's voice is almost enough to make him turn around.

"I thought you'd left."

"I'm still here. There's only one door." Arius turns his attention to the door as he unclenches his fist. The door tricked him. He stares at it, unblinkingly, for the rest of the visit. That way there's no way for anyone to sneak in or out. Not long after, he hears movement and Victor is soon at his side. Arius is quite willing to take his hand now, accepting the quiet gesture as the man holds his own out slightly. After thanking Christine, the pair leave into the main room once again.

"I'm hungry." Arius informs him, feeling the emptiness in his stomach. He _could_ sit with it longer, cope with the hunger, but he's starting to realise that with Victor dinner is no longer so heavily restricted. There isn't a set time, limit, or even what the dinner is. Or any food for that matter. He can even have snacks whenever too. An apple a day keeps the doctor away but the doctor must be well away for Arius, who has been eating _two_ apples a day just to enjoy the luxury before it's taken away from him. As he will with every other luxury.

"We could go get burgers." Victor suggests before he waves at the woman standing at the counter. Anona waves back, smiling warmly.

"Come back soon. It was nice meeting you, Arius! We'll paint your nails next time." Arius perks up at this and gives the older woman a stronger wave than he might have normally.

"Burgers are like big sandwiches."

"Let's get chips then. Chips and I think I have some veggies in the fridge to make sure we're still eating healthy."

"Can we get tomatoes?" Arius asks. The outside air is a cool relief as it washes over the pair—a literal breath of fresh air. Somehow even the side rooms carried the same musty air in the club, though the younger hadn't even realised until now.

"Sure. We can get some tomatoes too."  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Victor is busy today with his work. Work has a tendency to fill up his day, when it's too dangerous for him to be doing too much outside, but this is the first time Arius has been given permission to roam around wherever he'd like. To an extent, of course. He's been told that Victor assumes he has enough common sense to know to stay away from whatever might look dangerous, and to come home or to the Suckers if he thinks he's in trouble. And, of course, he has his wand. But, otherwise, he can do whatever he wants.

The young boy puts on what has become his favourite pair of overalls—though he's only ever had one pair so maybe it isn't that _significant_ , but it's significant to him. With them on, and a pair of shoes, he heads out onto the street. He's not really sure what he's going to do, nor is he sure what he wants to do. But he has a whole day to decide and doesn't plan on wasting it thinking inside. So he sets off, looking for something to do.

The search brings him to the edge of Knockturn Alley, the part that connects to Diagon Alley which is just as busy as it had been the first time he came here. He pauses, still submerged in shadows, as he looks out there. He has no reason to go out there, but he has nothing better to do and he has to try it. He has to test at least one thing.

He takes the first step out of the shadows and his mouth has already gone dry. He swings his arms, needing an outlet for the buzz starting to fill him, a laugh bubbling up inside of him. He can't say he feels good. Horrible, more than anything. He _feels_ nervous. When his foot lands in the sunlight, it only worsens. Taking a full step outside, so both feet are planted firmly in Diagon Alley, he has to laugh again. The buzz fills him—the worst possible buzz.

He just wanted to know if it was Knockturn Alley that had been protecting him all this time, if there really was something protecting all the criminal inhabitants. Perhaps, as he steps out into Diagon, the protection lifts and the orphanage will be able to capture him again. But nothing happens. There are people walking around him and not one person seems to care. He's still safe. The nerves turn more positive, relief, but the bubble in his chest remains. He can't hold back the laughter—the same rough bark—and _then_ he gets some strange looks. But that's all they are— _looks_. And Arius can handle looks, he's fine with that. Looks don't grab him, hold him down, send him back to the real joy suckers.

With that done, he returns to Knockturn Alley. He retraces the steps he took when he escaped with a little more care, searching. Eventually, he finds himself back in the offshoot he slept in on his first night. There are strange faces, people he doesn't know, but the other man is still there. The friendly one that smiled. Arius approaches him and smiles at him—not because he's particularly happy to see him, but rather because he wants to show him he can now. The smile hurts his jaw but he assumes he's doing it right. The man seems happy enough to see him.

"Hello, boy! You got new clothes." The man greets him, surprisingly warmly for someone he only met once.

"I got a home too." Arius explains as he takes a seat across from him. He has his wand resting in his lap within his fingers, just in case anyone tries anything.

"Good, good, it doesn't do for a kid you're age to be alone out here." The man looks at him curiously, like suspicion without the bite. "Why'd you come back then?"

"I don't have anything better to do." The boy confesses, receiving a loud laugh from the other man. The happiness isn't quite as annoying as before, though it still isn't returned. Arius just watches him, wondering what's so funny. The man doesn't explain and, when Arius realises he's not going to, he holds his hand out. "I'm Arius."

"Chester." Chester's hand is warm but a sort of rough that can only be achieved through a life hard lived. Not to mention each nail is darkened by dirt, contrasting against Arius's neatly trimmed, clean ones. That's one thing he hasn't lost from the orphanage. They've grown a little, but not enough to be considered untidy yet.

"Why do you live here?" Arius asks after he looks around the alleyway. He's glad he has a proper place to sleep now. One night was enough for him.

"Got no place else to go."

"Why?" The older man pulls up his sleeve to reveal puckered scars that still stand stark against his dirty skin. They travel up into the sleeve, but the most notable one is the large bite mark that rests on his forearm.

"Got bit by a werewolf when I was younger, made me one too. Werewolves don't get treated all too nicely by the humans."

Arius frowns, confused, "Why not?"

"They don't really see us as human. It _is_ better than it was before but only a little. It's getting better slowly. Very slowly..." Chester shrugs his shoulders as if it doesn't matter, or as if he's brushing it off. "Muggles, vampires, werewolves—it's all the same. We're different—you're different—different is weird."

"People treated me because I'm weird too."

"They'll do that. There'll always be something different that someone doesn't like." Chester shrugs again and gives Arius a smile. He leans a little closer, poking softly at Arius's chest. The action doesn't feel threatening, not so much that the younger might be uncomfortable. "What makes us better is that we won't treat them badly back. Don't let them get to you, don't let them bring you down to their level. Be the bigger person."

"The bigger person." Arius repeats, earning an even wider grin from the older man.

"Exactly. They can kick us down to a place like this," Chester gestures at the alleyway, "But we'll never be as low as them. You remember that, won't you?"

"I'll remember."  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Dinner at the Sucker's Club is burgers and chips. Despite being an overstuffed sandwich, Arius doesn't mind the burger so much as he fills his mouth with it. It's rather basic, really, with only a patty, lettuce, tomato and sauce but it still tastes good. Anona is eating with them, though she seems to primarily just be picking from Victor's chips. Not that he minds. Arius would mind a little, but only because he really likes the chips and wants to eat as many as he can. Maybe if he was full, he'd share. He'd have to be pretty full, though.

After dinner, Victor leaves for his drink, while Anona and Arius stay at the bar. As promised, Anona has brought her nail polish so that Arius may also have colourful nails. She's changed the colours of hers since they were last here, all a bright pink under the glow of the room. To begin with, the older woman decides to beaten Arius's nails just a little with the filer. He watches as she begins scratching his nails with the edge of the little object. Unable to help himself, he scrunches his nose in mild discomfort.

"This feels weird." He comments, causing her to pause.

"Do you want me to stop?" Rather than answer verbally, he just shakes his head and she continues filing his nails. Soon, they're all as smooth as the next one. Then they move onto the exciting bit, the part Arius has been waiting for. "Which colour?"

Arius shrugs his shoulders as he looks at each bottle. He's less interested in _which_ colour and more that his nails _are_ coloured.

"Do you have a favourite colour?"

"No, not really." Arius pauses to confirm what slipped from his tongue without much thought. But, no, there is no colour he'd say he prefers over the rest. He's never really been drawn to colours in that way. They're just there to keep the world bright.

"Would you like my favourite colour then?"

"What is it?"

"Green." Anona lifts a jar that looks like luminescent slime in the light. Arius nods his head, pleased with that choice. With that decided, the bar tender quickly moves into painting his nails. "Having painted nails is fun. You could magically colour them but I think physically painting them is half the fun."

"Mhmm," is Arius's response. He might not be painting his nails himself, but watching Anona do it is entertaining enough.

"You know what I think is the best thing about painting your nails?" Arius looks up from his nails long enough to shake his head at the older woman, before he returns to the colours. "It's like clothes, or hair—you can tell people what sort of a mood you're in, what you're like, all sorts of things."

"I thought clothes were just so you're not naked and cold."

"Well, those are both equally important but the type of clothes you wear can show off a great deal about yourself."

"What do my clothes show off?" Arius asks, looking down at his jacket and shorts. His overalls needed to be washed so he had to wear something else today. He's still not fond of shirts, so the jacket was his compromise with Victor.

"You don't like being restricted and you go against the norms. Either that or you're too warm and your overalls are in the wash." Looking back up, Anona gives Arius a wink. She's seen right through him.

"Victor said I can't wear them every day and not wash them."

"They'd start to smell if you did that." The brunet shrugs his shoulders. He hadn't smelt anything. "One hand down. Now we just have to let it dry while we move onto the next one."

"Does it take long to dry?"

"Not really." While Anona works on Arius's left hand, the boy keeps his focus on the drying right hand. Already, it glows in the light, the same green slime colour. His nails might not be as long as Anona's, but that doesn't make them any less colourful or neat. This green, he thinks, might just be his new favourite colour.

"What does this colour show off?" Arius asks, showing Anona his hand even though she should be well aware what colour is there.

"Well, obviously, it means you're a really cool person like me." Arius nods his head like he really is that obvious. Maybe it is, he wouldn't know. "But I think it'd probably show off that you're bright and out there. It's an exciting colour."

"Exciting..." The boy repeats in a soft whisper.

"All done!" Once the bartender is finished with it, she takes a small step back to properly admire her work. Both of Arius's hand shine bright green at the ends of the fingers, still drying but nonetheless _exciting_ to look at.

"What do we do now?" Arius asks, stretching his fingers wide apart. Suddenly the hands he's had his whole life are a novelty to him, completely new and interesting. All he wants to do is stare at them until it grows old, though he feels like they'd never grow old. How could brightly coloured nails grow old?

"Well, how about, I make us both a fire truck and drink that until Victor is done?"

"A fire truck?"

"Yeah... It's just raspberry lemonade but it sounds more fun when you call it that."

"I'd like that..." When Anona gives Arius another smile, the boy decides to return it. It's a conscious act but not a forced one and, for once, that doesn't feel uncomfortable. He does feel good inside. Warm. An odd tingling through his insides that tightens his ribs and throat—not uncomfortably, just strange. It feels right to smile.

When Victor emerges, half way through their raspberry lemonades, Arius gives him a smile as well. He then, naturally, shows off the practically dried nails.

"Wow, they're great. Do you like them?" Victor comments, seeming genuine despite the slightly exaggerated reaction. Arius gives him a nod. _Of course_ he likes them. The older man then turns to Anona as he continues, "You did a good job."

When they leave, Arius instinctively takes Victor's hand within his own newly painted one. If Arius properly understood what a puzzle piece is, he might be inclined to compare their hands to two pieces. But he doesn't. So, to Arius, it just feels _right_. That in itself is foreign and a little frightening but, even more oddly, Arius is starting to grow less concerned with that.

Slowly, it'll all fall into place. This time, he might even trust that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True to form I suppose, I keep forgetting that Arius is 11. In my head his age seems to fluctuate from anywhere between 9 and 15 though I imagine that's also probably where he is mentally. Not to fear, though, he'll settle down soon there
> 
> For the record, this section will end up being around ten chapters long, give or take. Draco isn't going to make many appearances here, certainly no interactions


	5. Not Quite Hogwarts

SEPTEMBER, 1991

A month has passed and life has started to take on a sort of normality. Every day is still special and important, but they hold less of the impermanence, as if this life was going to slip through Arius's fingers the second he looked away. The impermanence is still there, just weaker.

But today is a bad day. Not only is his night filled with bad dreams, he wakes to meet a day where Victor suggests the most horrible thing he could possibly suggest.

"Do you want to go to Hogwarts?" He asks after breakfast, after they've both gotten ready for the day. Immediately, Arius is convinced the older man is trying to get rid of him. All of this has just been some horrible ploy to get him comfortable, lull him into a sense of false security, get him attached to everything, before snatching it away from him. "I just wasn't sure if you'd like to go learn magic properly. I'm sure we could figure out a way for you to go."

This is a punishment for when he broke that glass the other week, after waking up in a fright. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even touched the glass. But it still exploded, hit with the shapeless warmth in his stomach.

"I didn't mean to break the glass." Arius responds, voice growing quiet because he doesn't want Victor to know just how much this betrayal hurts him. He wouldn't admit it to him now, but he's grown attached to the vampire and he's the best almost-family he's had. He let his guard down.

"No, it's not that. I'm not mad about that." Victor almost sounds sincere. If they weren't discussing shipping Arius off to school, he'd believe him. "I was just wondering if you _wanted_ to go. You don't have to—we can work around it."

"I don't want to go."

"That's okay. We might still have to teach you how to use your magic, but I'll find some people. You can learn here, at home, or something." With Victor's resignation, Arius finds the worry leaving his body like water down an unplugged sink. Just as quickly as it rose, he finds himself relaxing and believing the older man.

"Why can't you teach me?"

"I wouldn't know where to start. I barely use magic as it is—I don't have a wand." Arius reaches for the wand that rests on _his_ bedside table, which has his comic book inside. These days, he can grip a wand properly. His hands aren't quite as stiff as they used to be, though the muscle still needs to be built up. He holds the wand out to Victor.

"I've got a wand."

"You do, but you'd get more use out of it than me." Victor waves it away, so Arius puts the wand back. It almost rolls off the edge, but stops itself just in time. "We'll figure it out. It might be good for some of the others to meet you."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Some of the others includes a rather large man that towered over all of them, a significantly shorter man that stood just a bit shorter than Arius, and a man who stood in the middle with fine features and pointed ears. The large man was introduced as Hugo, the shortest man as Jedrek, and the pointy man as Orym.

"Hugo is quite good at charms, Jedrek can teach you how to defend yourself, and Orym knows his herbs and offenses." Victor explains after the introductions are made. Arius looks from him, to his three new acquaintances, and nods his head once. The three people look pleasant enough, none particularly worrisome. If they come with Victor's approval, Arius is inclined to approach them with a more positive outlook. He hasn't met anyone that's friends with Victor who has also been unpleasant company.

"We'll start you off with charms. It seems like a good place to begin." Hugo comments once the introductions are done. He's met with a series of nods, the rest of the group in approval. As Arius's first lesson begins, Victor detaches himself from the group to settle down at their kitchen table, looking over some books. The youngest returns his attention to his teachers. "Let's start you off with a levitation charm. That's something most students learn early on, I think."

"It was the first charm I ever learnt." Jedrek adds, supporting the larger man. Jedrek nods his head as well.

"What's it do?" Arius asks and he picks up his wand, curious. He hasn't had much reason to use it, or any magic for that matter. Sometimes he forgets he has it; like the days before he even knew what he was, or that it was even inside of him. It had come to a surprise to everyone, even him, as he'd shown all the signs of not having magic and none of the signs of being a wizard. No magical outbursts, no unconsciously using it to get what he wanted. Maybe he should be making the most of it now, when no one can tell him how to use it.

"It will make something float." Hugo looks around thoughtfully, in search of something he hadn't yet communicated. Eventually, he seems to find what he was after and gets up to collect one of the tomatoes from their bench. Perhaps magic is something that can't be done on an empty stomach. It wouldn't make sense as to how he had done it then, but maybe it was a rule he's unaware of. Or it works better. But then Hugo ruins all Arius's theories by ignoring the tomato itself and instead twisting its green leaves off the top. These were clearly his aim instead, as he brings them back to the group and places them on the floor between their circle. "Here, I'll show you— _wingardium leviosa_."

With a swish and a flick of his own wand, the tomato leaves float into the air as if they weighed nothing. As he watches them rise higher and higher, following the direction of his wand, Arius reaches out and plucks the leaves from the air. They don't feel as though they weigh any different.

"You have to make sure you say it correctly, as you swish and flick your wand." Hugo instructs after Arius has places the tomato leaves back on the ground. He collects his wand, pointing it towards the leaves. "Remember: wingardium leviosa."

"Wing-gardium le-vee-osa." Hugo's careful enunciation seems to be for nothing because even when Arius tries, waving his wand as he'd observed, the leaves don't even budge. He tries a second time to no avail before he looks back to Hugo.

"Hmm... Repeat after me: win _gard_ ium."

"Win _gard_ ium."

"Levi _o_ sa."

"Le-vee-osa."

"Keep your 'ee's shorter, with more emphasis on the 'o'. Nice and to the point." Hugo corrects and, when Arius tries again, he seems content with his pronunciation. The younger attempts the spell once more, but the leaves only shuffle ever so slightly. Enough so for it to easily have just been a breeze. They're certainly not floating as if made of the air itself. "Keep going. It's normal to need a few tries."

Frustrated, rather than doing as instructed, Arius does what has worked for him in the past: pointing the wand at the leaves, he reaches into the odd warmth and pulls it up from inside of him and out through his wand, telling the leaves what to do. Unlike before, they manage to jump into the air before landing on the ground again. This would be harder to brush off as the wind.

"Well, that worked. What did you do then?" Hugo asks, rather than scolding him for ignoring his instructions.

"I just thought about what I wanted it to do." Arius explains and receives a nod from the older man. He still doesn't seem displeased and gives him a smile instead.

"Very good." He praises him and it feels strange. Not unpleasant—he thinks he likes it—just strange. "It would be good to keep practicing your pronunciation, but if that's what works for you then we can adapt. Nonverbal spells are just as important to learn, so maybe you'll just get the hang of those better. Everyone has their thing."

"Okay." Arius responds, before his attention goes back to the tomato leaves. He points his wand at it again, giving a swish and flick as he pulls at the warmth. Rather than pull once for a short reserve of magic, Arius keeps the channel open in a continuous stream. It allows the leaves to gain more height and stay in place for a few seconds, before it grows difficult to concentrate on both at once and his connection closes.

"Keep practicing! It won't happen all at once. It's like a sort of muscle—you have to exercise it so it grows stronger." Hugo encourages his, prompting him to attempt it a third time. Once again, it stays up for a few seconds longer. Progress is being made.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"What do you do?" Arius asks later that evening, after his charms practice is over and the others have left. It might be dinner time if one of them grows hungry soon, but it won't be Arius who instead had a late lunch. Instead he sits on his bed, drawing on a piece of paper. Drawing is almost as good as reading comics, as they let Arius make his own up but never look quite as good as his books. Victor glances up from his own book curiously—only words, not half as exciting when Victor himself isn't reading it to Arius—and raises one eyebrow in question to the boy. "Your work, what is it?"

In the time Arius has been here, it's one of the things he still doesn't know about the older man despite it being a prominent part of both their lives. During the day, which even Arius knows is the most dangerous time for Victor, it draws the vampire out and about, and brings him back before the day is over.

"I look after some of the people here." Victor explains, marking his page before he places it down on the table. He turns himself towards Arius, giving him his full attention. "As you know, a lot of society's... undesirables find their way here one way or another, and they usually don't have a place to go or much to their name. I spent most of my family's fortune buying buildings around here and I've set them up as safe houses or places where someone can find food or drink. The Sucker's Club is one of them, for vampires. During the day, I check on the places, make sure no problems have arisen, show new people to their places."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Only so long as people don't know. I don't think the Ministry would be pleased if they knew there were houses being held by a vampire, for other people they've deemed as lesser, even if it is in Knockturn." Arius nods his head once, curiosity satisfied. The more he hears about the outside world, the more he's glad he escaped it for this one. He'd known it wasn't good, but he'd still clung to some hope that it would be different when he was old enough to leave. It's just a shame to hear it wouldn't be.

"Can I help?" Arius doesn't feel any great desire to help, no sense of justice propelling him forward to contributing to the Right Thing. But doing something like that sounds like what the superheroes do, and the superheroes live far more exciting lives than Arius does. Maybe if he helps, then he might find that little spark that brings him the great sense of purpose the characters have. He has emotions—he thinks, he definitely has _something_ —now he just needs a reason for them.

"Sure." Victor responds, igniting that pleased sense of victory in Arius. "If you keep learning your spells, I'll make you my second in command. But you have to be able to defend yourself—it's a dangerous job, more so as my partner because they'll try to get to you to get me."

"Really?" Victor nods very slowly, wisely. Arius is inclined to believe he isn't just humouring him and is completely genuine. "I'll learn my spells. I'll get better than even you."

"You already are better than me. Try to be better than your teachers—that's harder."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"The belladonna—nightshade, devil's berries, beautiful death—is an interesting plant. It's related to the devil's trumpet and the black henbane—very poisonous plants—but it's also related to potatoes and tomatoes–"

"I like those." Arius interrupts Orym's lesson with his comment, as he points towards the tomato that still rests on the bench.

"Exactly. They are edible and we enjoy eating them. The belladonna is like both plants—deadly, but still useful when used correctly. If you were to eat even a few of her berries, she would kill you. She will tempt you to eat her, then drive you crazy for feasting upon her flesh." Arius looks down at the simple drawing of a flower curiously, no longer trusting its appearance. He then returns his attention to Orym, who had fallen silent as his attention shifted. "But, if used correctly, she will take care of you. She might relieve your pain, cure sickness, and make you forget your woes. But that threat is always there, the risk that she may withdraw her kindness."

"So she could kill you even when she's helping you?"

"That is the perfect time to strike, don't you think? When their guard is down and they trust you. You will get past any defences that they might have otherwise raise." Arius nods his head once as he gaze drops back to the drawing. He had expected learning about plants to be boring, but this class isn't as bad as he expected. "Even the most powerful person has a weakness. You just have to bide your time, be patient. Always be patient. The early bird gets the worm, but sometimes it also gets the belladonna. Be the bird that watches the other bird eat her berries, and then knows to use those berries against its enemies."

"What are you guys talking about?" Victor asks as he returns home, entering the conversation right at the end. Confusion is etched across his face in a small frown that Arius mimics when he notices it. His pretend confusion drops within seconds, taken over by his positive-neutral expression.

"Belladonna." Arius answers first, gesturing at the page.

"I was teaching Arius about her uses, and how he should always be patient." Victor removes his first layer of clothes, a heavy jacket, hat, gloves, and glasses as he listens. Most of these go on the hanger that rests by the door, except for the gloves and glasses which instead go on the bench.

"Patience is good."

"I can use belladonna on my enemies." Arius informs Victor, just in case he wasn't aware that he too could use it on his own enemies if he wanted. Even if he hasn't learnt enough spells to qualify as a second in command yet, it's good to start practicing those duties as well for when the time comes. He thinks finding suitable ways to take care of enemies would come under that.

"Remind me to never become one of your enemies." Victor says dryly, but Arius thinks that's impossible. The only way he could become that was if he betrayed him and threw him back where he came. Even if sometimes Arius wakes up and thinks he might, it never lasts.

"That is just one way, little one. There is a whole world that awaits you. Sometimes a poison won't be enough–"

"Orym, maybe wait til he's got a grasp on the herbs before you start teaching him that." Victor interrupts again, sending a slight frown Orym's way.

"Very well. Next semester then." Orym directs the last bit to Arius, a knowing smile assuring Arius that it would be something they touch on. "For now, let's move onto oleander. Another pretty flower, one that would not be uncommon to see in a garden in someone's house, but it can be deadly. More so for you than me."

"Why me?"

"Because you're still a child and I am very old." Arius frowns at this, as the angular man looks younger than Victor. In fact, of his new group of teachers, he looks the youngest. He wouldn't even qualify as 'old', not even compared to Arius.

"How old are you?"

"Older than you can count on your fingers and toes, but younger than our friend Victor here." Arius's frown doesn't relent as he watches Orym, trying to find the answer in his vague response. "I'm not completely human, like you are, so I don't age the same."

"What are you?"

"My father was an elf. Not a house elf, mind you, but a creature of the great forests. They live for hundreds of years, longer than even a wizard, and age even slower. But I'm only half that so I assume that is half the luck for me." Arius's frown finally eases as the topic changes and he is given some information. "Twice my luck that I get to teach you in my lifetime though, aye?"

"Why?"

"Well, it's nice passing it onto someone. I know a lot and you not so much." Arius nods his head, unable to deny this. Not that it sounds like much of an insult coming from Orym, but it is a weakness nonetheless. "Anyway, back to oleander before Victor has some words for us."  
  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  
  


"The first trick to defence is to have no reason to use it in the first place." Jedrek opens his lesson, sitting at the kitchen table. While Victor is out, the table is theirs to steal and the older man said he'd prefer it to the floor. "If you don't give anyone a reason to attack you, you will be fine. Does that mean you should sit there, roll over like a weak dog, and let anyone who feels like it walk over you? No. Absolutely not. You must _always_ have the upper hand, but you mustn't let them know."

"When their defences are down." Arius comments, drawing on his previous lessons. It does please him to see them tying into one another so easily.

"Exactly. But to do that you must be subtle—never show all your cards, never reveal all your motives, weaknesses, desires. Once someone as them, they are things that can be used against you and are even harder to defend against." Arius nods his head, listening intently. Defending himself is something that comes naturally to him, like breathing, but it is good to be learning more than just his instincts. "Of course, that won't work on everyone. Some people will go out looking for fights, so we'll learn how to defend yourself against them."

"I know how to fight people without magic."

"Then you're one step ahead of even some of the greatest wizards. Some wizards stop at the spells and forget to consider what might happen if they lose their wand. If you neglect your physical defences, you'll be powerless if that might happen." Jedrek places his hand over Arius's wand, rolling it closer to the younger boy. Taking the signal, Arius picks up his wand. "We'll start with what will most often help you reach that point—disarming your opponent. Come on, up you hop."

Arius does as he's told and gets to his feet, waiting expectantly for his next instructions. They come quickly as the older man draws his own wand, a gnarled stick with a decorated hilt.

"Now, I am going to attempt to attack you. Your job is to disarm me before I can with a spell I'm about to teach you." Arius nods his head. "Now, what you want to do, is point your wand at me and say ' _Expelliarmus_ '."

As Jedrek demonstrates, Arius's own wand goes flying from his hand before he even has time to react. Directing a frown at his teacher, he goes off to collect his wand before returning to his position.

"Now you try. And remember, whatever you did with those tomato leaves, try to do something similar now, while using the spell."

Arius first attempt fails, as he focuses more on saying the word correctly than drawing up his magic. The second attempt seems more successful if Jedrek's reaction is anything to go by, but still fails to disarm him. It's the third attempt that is completely successful, as Arius pulls his magic from his core, thinking intently on Jedrek dropping his wand, before he says the spell. The wand does drop from the older man's hand. But Jedrek is confusingly not as pleased as Arius expected.

"You got the aim down but... somehow I think you cast a different spell." Jedrek explains as he picks up his wand, which didn't move as far as Arius's had. Whereas Arius's had flown from his hand against his will, Jedrek's had dropped straight down. "You disarmed me, just by forcibly making me drop the wand."

"I wanted you to drop it. But I said the word."

"You did. I heard you, don't worry. But we will need to work on that... We want to make sure it's the spell working, and not just your magic." Arius doesn't really know what the distinction is, if they both achieve the same thing, but nods his head anyway because he assumes it's the best way to continue his lesson. "Alright, let's go again. This time, rather than trying to make me _drop_ the wand, focusing on forcing the wand from my hand with the spell."

And so Arius tries again. And again. All the way up until Victor comes home for dinner. And even then, he's not quite sure he has it.


	6. A Family

VICTOR is late. He was supposed to meet Arius in the usual room five minutes ago but he wasn't even there when Arius arrived. He was going to drink, then they were going to have dinner at the Sucker's Club to celebrate a full week of learning. Instead, Arius is sitting with Christine, a lady he knows well enough to know that she is maybe alright, but not much beyond that.

"What do you do?" Arius decides to ask, because he's never actually seen what goes on between Christine and Victor. His back is always turned out of respect for the pair and because Victor asks him nicely. It's always quiet for a few long minutes, leaving Arius with plenty of room for his mind to go wild. His current favourite theory is that Victor turns into a bat. He saw that once in a comic.

"Here?" Christine asks as if she wasn't expecting the question, gesturing at the space in front of her. She's sitting in her usual, unusually placed seat in the centre of the room, which she hasn't moved from since Arius arrived. Arius could have waited for Victor out with Anona, but the deal was to meet here and Arius had intended to completing his end. He nods his head in answer. "Uh, well, people like Victor come in and they drink some of my blood and then they go."

"Why?"

"It pays well. I like it better than what I was doing before." Arius tilts his head to the side ever so slightly in curiosity. He doesn't ask because the vagueness suggests a similar sort of vagueness that Arius feels necessary when people ask about his past. That Arius is dead and doesn't need to be talked about in great detail; in a similar way, he assumes that Christine is dead and decides not to pull at the unpleasant memories.

"Does it hurt?" He asks instead, because he hasn't been able to figure out any possibility where it might not hurt. Maybe by magic—he's not quite sure what the limitations on that are yet.

"Sometimes. I'm used to it now, so it hurts less. Like a pinch." The young boy gets up from his seat, closing the distance between them until he's standing right beside her. With the arm not holding a comic, he stretches it out for her, bare skin showing.

"Show me. Pinch it." He urges, after the older woman doesn't do anything for a few confused seconds. She doesn't seem any more reassured.

"Are you sure?" He nods his head again. This seems to convince her as she does as she was asked, pinching him very quickly on his arm. There's a small but sharp bite of pain that disappears as quickly as it came, not upsetting Arius in the slightest. There's a red mark where she pinched, the only sign it ever happened.

"You're right—it didn't hurt that much." Arius confirms as he drops his arm. Pleased he's investigated as much as he wants, he decides to change the topic to the only other important thing that might need to be asked. "Do you like comics?"

"I don't read many, but that doesn't mean I don't like them."

"Would you like to read this one?" Arius asks as he shows her the one he brought today. It's one of the newer ones so he hasn't quite read it to death yet, but it's still been read a countless number of times. While not ungrateful, his collection is a finite source and it means they often have to be reread over and over. He doesn't mind though. If he changes the words, it's like a whole new story.

"What's it about?"

"I don't know. It changes each time I read it."

Christine ponders this for a few seconds, "If you'll read it to me then." Arius is quite eager to comply, because it also means he gets to read the comic. He leaves briefly to grab his chair, dragging it over so he can sit next to the older woman. Once he's sat down, he opens the first page on his lap and begins reading.

"This man is running late. That's why he's jumping so high—he only jumps like that when he's late because it's fast but also really tiring. If he doesn't jump fast enough, though, people are going to die and he doesn't like that because he likes most people. Dead people are worse because then they come back to life again but they're not as nice and get really hungry." Arius explains as he points to the first panel of a costume-clad man in the sky. He turns the page to one of the same man landing on the ground beside another man dressed in a far more colourful costume, almost looking like a robot. Arius likes his costume better. "Oh. Oh, no. The jumping man is actually a bad guy. He tricked you. He actually likes when dead people come back to eat your brains. He doesn't have a brain so he can't be attacked by the zombies. This man is Captain Robot—" All superheroes have cool names, "and he's trying to stop the bad man... Mr. Man, from turning all these people into dead people."

"Why has Captain Robot tied them all up like that then?" Christine asks, interrupting the story. She points to the group of people in a net, all shouting for help.

"Those ones are already dead. They want to eat Captain Robot's brain, which is very big and tasty." Arius explains without missing a beat. He turns the page to the two men yelling at each other. "Captain Robot and Mr. Man used to be friends but Mr. Man wanted to eat Captain Robot's brain so they stopped being friends."

"I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone who tried to eat my brain."

"Yeah, me too. Especially if they didn't ask first, which Mr. Man didn't." Arius doesn't get to finish his story as Victor suddenly arrives, looking rather apologetic as he steps through the doorway. Two sets of eyes immediately raise to meet his upon his entry, one smiling and the other as blank as always. "Hello, Victor."

"Sorry I'm late. I ran into some trouble." Victor explains by way of greeting, closing the door behind him. Arius has already forgiven him, his arrival being enough, but curiosity is now starting to bubble inside of him. As a prospective second in command, it would be good to know what trouble meant.

"What happened?" He asks, moving from his chair so he can drag it back to his usual spot. Sitting directly in front of the door, he looks up to the vampire as he awaits his response.

"There was a fight. I had to split them up before anyone was seriously hurt, then find out what was wrong." One thing Arius likes about Victor is he rarely leaves a question unanswered. Even when he can't give a proper answer, he gives some information or provides the reason as to why. If it's because he's too young or doesn't know enough of other things yet, then the clear goal is set for when he can unlock this information. Arius likes that a lot better to vague non-answers he's used to receiving so often. The same goes for his instructions—rarely is an order given and, when it is, the reasoning is also provided.

Victor disappears from Arius's field of vision so the boy turns his attention to the door in front of him. He's grown used to the silence behind him, but he still likes to be able to keep an eye on the door. The concern has shifted less from Victor abandoning him and more to someone else entering the room uninvited. He's not so sure the sign outside would be enough to stop someone who really wanted to get in.

The time passes quickly, quicker as Arius turns his attention to reading his comic. Before he knows it, there's a hand lightly touching his shoulder and he looks up to see Victor standing over him.

"How does the comic end?" Christine asks as Arius is pushing his chair to the side. There's a few marks on her arm that are already healing, barely any blood to show what had happened.

"Captain Robot stops Mr. Man from eating all the brains."

Christine smiles at him, "I'm glad to hear it." Arius knows she's just humouring him, but he can't sense any ill intent or judgement behind it. She seems a confusing mix of sincere and insincere. Exaggerated, maybe. Either way, he assumes she means well and doesn't hold it against her. Comics aren't for everyone.  
  
  
  
  


*  
  
  
  
  


Arius is wandering the street of Knockturn for no reason other than because he can. He has explored the alley plenty of times now, but it makes a change from the apartment he has explored far more times.

Today, it's _Borgin & Burkes_ that holds his attention. From the window, which is only as far as he'll ever venture into the stores, he can see that it's filled with a variety of strange objects. Some of them are even moving. He doubts he'd have the pocket money for those sorts of things, but he's not entirely sure he'd want any of them anyway. To be fair, in general, he doesn't really want anything. Not in the grand scheme of things. He'll want food when his stomach is empty, something to do when there's nothing — but those are all temporary. No goals, desires, beyond getting better at his magic so he can help Victor, which he hopes will help him find something to want.

He wants to want.

Arius heaves a great sigh as he finds himself contemplating the changes the first ritual he ever did brought. He thinks he feels things, now. He certainly feels more than he did before. He can be pleased with something, enjoy something, be excited about things. But nothing he would call 'happy'. Happy has always felt like some great, good emotion that made you stupid, that made things feel like they'll be good forever. Arius hasn't felt that. And he hasn't felt any desires. Wasn't that ritual supposed to help him with that?

"What's on your mind, little one?" Arius is slightly surprised to see Orym beside him, lowering himself into a crouch that brings him closer to the younger's level. One thing Arius has learnt during his time learning with him is that the older man is silent like a shadow when he wants to be, which is more often that it is not.

Arius looks at the older male and wonders if it's something he can talk to him about. It's not something he's ever spoken to Victor about properly, but their meeting isn't something that has been brought up since. Arius doesn't like asking for help, even when he needs it. He has always been alone, had to rely entirely on himself; now that there is the ability to receive support, he doesn't know how to ask for it.

"That is tough." Orym comments, which causes Arius to frown at him.

"I didn't say anything." He begins to wonder if Orym can read minds. It wasn't something he had considered before but, now that he thinks about it, sometimes the people in his comics can do that. Arius doesn't necessarily know how to tell if someone is in his head or how to get them out, but he mentally builds a wall around his head. He hopes that might be enough.

"No, but your silence spoke volumes." The half-elf looks to Arius and offers him a small smile. "If you had to think so much, it must be a big thought."

"You weren't reading my mind?" Despite the implication that Orym wasn't, Arius needs explicit confirmation. The paranoia bubbles away, threatening to eat away at any trust he has built up.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. I respect you too much to insult you like that, little one." Orym's nickname for Arius has never felt like an insult either; there is never any condescending tone attached to it. It feels warm. And it's for that reason that Arius has never chosen to make him stop. "You are a very quiet person, so I must learn to read the words hidden in the silence. Not quite as accurate as the spoken, but it will do."

"No one has ever bothered to try to do that before. I think Victor does it too."

Orym nods his head, "He would." Warm. That's what Arius feels. It's not quite happiness, but it is warm. Safe. Before he might have been scared at this level of comfort he's developing, but it doesn't scare him anymore. The only thing that does scare him is the label he would almost be inclined to place on this group of people that make him feel warm, purely for the commitment it suggests... _Family_. "Would you like to talk, or would you like some ice cream?"

"I don't want to go to the muggle world without Victor."

"Who says we have to leave the wizarding world?" Orym flashes Arius a slightly bigger grin. "If you don't mind me accompanying you to Diagon Alley, there's one not far from here."

"I'd like that." Maybe Arius isn't quite ready for family yet, but even he can feel he's close. For the first time in his life, he feels like he belongs, is cared for, and safe. He might question its permanence, but that doesn't diminish its presence now.

Orym takes Arius by the hand, long slender fingers easily encasing his much smaller hand. As he stands up properly, he towers above Arius. It still doesn't make the boy feel small.   
  
  
  
  


Once the ice cream has been bought, with Arius getting a vanilla one and Orym a chocolate with pieces of nuts, the half-elf takes them through a few back passages and a short climb that eventually leads them onto the rooftop of a building in amongst Diagon Alley. From their spot, even sitting safely back on the roof, Arius can still see the wizards going about their business below. He savours the ice cream as he watches them.

Slowly, his gaze travels upwards and outwards; from this spot, he can also see the afternoon sun, the distance buildings stretching as far as he can. It's quiet and peaceful despite the murmur of noise below him.

"When are you happy?" Arius asks Orym. The question leaves his lips before he even realises he wanted to ask it. The sight stretched out before him should make him feel happy, but it doesn't. He feels empty.

"I am happy when I have done a job well, or when I am doing things I enjoy like tending my plants or spending time with people who are good company."

"How do you know you're happy?" Orym is quiet for a few moments, thinking.

"Truthfully, I don't know. It's just a feeling I can't control, but I know it when I feel it." Arius's ice cream begins to melt and drip down his hand. He quickly licks it away, not wanting his hand to grow sticky. "Is this what troubles you, little one?"

"Maybe." It's a compromise: a lack of an answer that can be clearly seen through. Orym gets his answer without Arius having to feel like he's weakened himself by giving it.

"Emotions are tricky. I have spent years controlling mine and still there are times when I can't control them. It is a part of being alive, I think." Arius feels minutely comforted by this, which is more than he has ever felt about it. "But don't ever let anyone tell you what you're feeling is wrong, not even yourself. It's a lie. It's impossible to feel wrong about something... In most cases, anyway."

"When can you feel wrong about something?"

"I think, if you're hurting someone and they don't deserve it and you know they don't deserve it, but you still feel good about it... It might be time to rethink how you feel about things." Arius ponders this for a few moments. He doesn't think he's hurt many people, and he definitely hasn't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it. Nor has he ever felt good about it. Though, to be fair, he's not sure he's ever been able to feel good about it. Which just brings him back around to the start of his problem.

But, at least he knows now when Orym might think he's feeling things wrong. That is one small step forward. 


	7. Chapter 7

NOVEMBER, 1991

THERE is one part of Knockturn Alley that Arius hasn't explored. Further into the area, after the shops end and the buildings start to get more rundown, is a few streets that Victor has labelled as the worst of the area. There hasn't been anything down there that really entices the boy, nothing that has given him any reason to go down there. But it's pure curiosity that has brought him to stand at the imaginary boundary between familiar and unfamiliar. There is no actual shift in the buildings that indicates the change, but Arius thinks the whole area is just a little darker, definitely a little less populated.

When Arius lived in the orphanage, it was Knockturn Alley that was the dangerous, prohibited area. Knockturn Alley ended up being the best thing that happened to Arius's life. He doesn't think this street will be as life-changing as that, but it does remain an uncertainty for as long as he doesn't explore it. He only has Victor's word to go off which, as much as he trusts the older man, isn't his own word.

The boy takes one step forward, crossing his invisible line, and doesn't feel any different. He pauses, looking around in case his change in position brought any changes to the environment. Beyond being one step ahead of where he had been before, it doesn't. He takes another step forward, and then another, until he's walking down the alley at a casual pace.

The buildings around him are boarded up as if uninhabited, all the windows dark and dusty, often lacking curtains though still remaining impenetrable from a distance. Despite this, Arius doubts they're uninhabited. There are a few people lurking around them to make him suspect as much. Overall, if Arius had held any high expectations, the place would have been underwhelming. There certainly isn't anything to him to do, appearing to be purely residential.

"Hello, sweetie." One old woman calls out as he passes, leaving the shadows to approach him. She doesn't look like the other women Arius has met, not as put together, the smile on her lips looks as forced as some of Arius's do. He pauses to watch her, curious as to what she might want. "Did you get lost?"

"No, I walked here." Arius explains with a slight frown, wondering if he'd looked lost. He certainly hadn't felt lost.

"Where's your parents, dear?" The younger remains silent at this question. He doesn't like it. Unsure how he even wants to answer, he just gives her a loose shrug and lets her do with that what she will. The woman's smile grows, though it remains as tight as before. "A child like yourself shouldn't be around these parts. There's a lot of people that would take advantage of that... Come with me, I'll make sure no one takes advantage of you."

"I'm okay. I know how to look after myself." As he responds, the woman reaches out to grip his arm. There's nothing threatening in her grip, more for guidance than anything, but the brunet frowns at it all the same. He doesn't like her touching him. Her hand is cold. It doesn't help when his wand lets out a soft chime. "Let go of me."

"Not safe for a boy! Not safe at all."

"Let go." Arius repeats, pulling his arm. Then her grip grows tighter, making it impossible for him to break free. As she starts moving, he finds himself being dragged along. At his side, his wand chimes. "Stop it — that hurts."

"For your own good, sweetie. It'll be okay — I can bake you cookies. You like cookies, don't you?"

"Let me go." Her chatter is ignored by Arius as his focus remains on freeing his arm. He would draw his wand, but he's unsure how effective that would be — she could have a wand of her own and he's only a beginner. He could try disarming her, but that would only help if it released her arm in the process.

His freedom comes at the hand of yet another. This hand, however, is large and quite welcome, especially when it belongs to Hugo. The older man stands tall above the woman and Arius, every bit intimidating with his silent glare. He says nothing but just his gaze seems to be enough to convince the woman to release Arius, raising her hands in surrender.

"Fine, fine — you have him. He's too skinny for me, anyway." She grumbles before stalking off, disappearing before either of the two have a chance to do anything. Which Arius thinks is a shame, as it might have been satisfying to twist her arm like that. His arm doesn't really hurt, but his pride does and he thinks that's a worse thing to injury.

"You okay?" Hugo asks as his gaze drops from the retreating woman to Arius. His attention rests immediately on his reddening arm, which looks worse than it feels.

"I'm okay." Arius responds, earning a small nod from the giant man. "I almost had her."

"It looked like she had you." The man comments dryly, a hint of humour in his voice.

"Maybe. But I did almost have her." Hugo doesn't look like he believes Arius. There's a sparkle of amusement on his face that the younger can't tell if he's laughing at him or not. The knife stabbed into his pride twists around, worsening the wound.

"What's one of the most important lessons in magic?" Hugo asks as they begin walking again, further into the alley rather than leaving. The presence of the large man seems to scare off anyone else interested in bothering them, leaving Arius to return to examining the buildings. Once again, they remain unexciting.

"Be patient?" Arius suggests, as it seems to be a common theme across all his lessons.

"That _is_ important, but not quite. I was going to say, the important thing is that you remember to use it."

"I did remember. I was trying to decide what to do when you arrived."

"You have to learn to be quick on your feet. In the time it takes for you to decide, your attacker could have already attacked _you_." This is fair advice and it breaks through Arius's pride, enough for him to store it away for future reference.

"Would even wingardium leviosa work?" Arius asks, looking up at the tall man. He has to really bend his neck to look up.

"If you could cause something hard — like a brick — to levitate, I think it'd work as a weapon. I suppose you could try on your opponent, but in a battle you want to aim for things you know you can lift."

"Can I try lifting you?"

Hugo raises an eyebrow at the boy, "You can try."

With all the consent he needs, Arius is quick to draw his wand this time. The pair pause in the middle of the street as the boy points his wand at Hugo. Frowning in concentration, Arius flicks his wand, then swishes it, loudly announcing, " _Wingardium leviosa_."

Nothing happens. Hugo remains stuck to the ground, even as Arius thinks hard about the tall man floating as light as a feather through the air.

"That tickled." Hugo comments, sounding more like approval than judgement or teasing. In fact, the man looks genuinely impressed.

"Did you really?" Arius asks, still suspicious.

"Really. I felt a small tickle in my shoes." A large hand ruffles Arius's hair, which was a mess to begin with. "You're making good progress."

"And you're not lying?"

"I wouldn't lie about that." Arius decides to accept this. A long, hard look into Hugo's eyes seems to suggest he's being genuine. As they begin walking again, the conversation shifts as Hugo asks, "How's your arm?"

"Fine. It's been worse." To show the older man, Arius swings his arm around and wriggles his fingers. Victor says the fact he can even wriggle his fingers is a good thing. Arius just wishes they were like they used to be.

"Does it hurt?" Arius shakes his head, looking down at his arm. The redness has gone away, leaving no sign the interaction even occurred. "She didn't charm you or feed you anything?"

"All she did was grab my arm and go on about taking care of me."

"Good. If you notice anything strange, make sure you tell Victor or one of us. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Jedrek says that too."

"It's good advice." Arius isn't so sure. Sometimes, being safe is being sorry, and sometimes it's better to be unsafe than sorry. Arguably, Arius was safe at the orphanage — he was fed, clothed, had a roof over his head; but he was also sorry. He had to leave his safety to escape the sorry, and he doesn't regret that one bit.

Though, he supposes, charms are probably a different matter. It probably really is better to be safe than sorry there.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometimes Victor thinks he's getting the hang of looking after a small, particularly independent child. And, sometimes, Arius is almost kidnapped by a witch after deciding to go into the one place Victor explicitly told him to stay away from, as if just to remind Victor that he really doesn't know what he's doing.

"Arius, I need you to understand... If I say a place is dangerous, I mean it's dangerous, okay?" Victor explains, trying to keep his tone level. He'd felt a great deal of concern when Hugo explained what had happened, and the only thing Arius seemed to take away from it was that he'd made Hugo's feet tickle. The boy is now watching him from his spot on the bed, as blank as ever. "We're living in Knockturn Alley, which has a reputation for a reason. It might be home to people like us, but it's almost home to a lot of _bad_ people that would hurt you just for fun."

"I can protect myself." Arius insists, twisting his blanket between a clenched fist. He then flattens the blanket, focusing on removing all the creases from one single patch.

"I know you can, but it's better if you don't have to defend yourself. That sort of protection is just meant to be for worst case scenarios." It's difficult to tell if the boy is listening to him. His gaze seems to remain on his hands, now fidgeting with his pants. Everything seems to need to be smoothed out.

"Before, here was the dangerous place. Now, here is fine and there's the dangerous place. I had to make sure..." Arius explains after a long, silent pause. The corner of his lips twitch downwards for a second, before he scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

"Are you unhappy here?" Victor asks, trying to read the unspoken words. This is responded with another shake of the head. "You just wanted to make sure?" A nod. "If you were unhappy, do you promise to tell me? You won't just run away."

"I'm not unhappy here."

"In the future, if there are places you want to explore, tell me and we can go together. It'll be safer if there's someone there with you."

"Okay." Arius ruins all the flat surfaces he created as he shuffles on the bed, seeming to be intentionally hitting every spot he'd been focused on before. He doesn't say anything more, but Victor feels like he can trust Arius to listen to him. So long as he's also careful on how he sets restrictions — no more unexplained boundaries. "Can we make cookies?"

"Cookies?" Victor isn't sure he knows how to make cookies. He can't remember ever making any. But the boy still nods and Victor already knows he isn't going to say no to him.

"That's what the lady was going to give me."

"We can make cookies. Or we can just buy some already made."

Arius shakes his head, "I want to make them." Now might be a good time to get a recipe off Anona.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


Arius sits on the kitchen bench with a bowl in his lap, trying to turn the sugar and butter into his bowl into a paste. Originally, he'd tried mixing like the recipe suggested, but his arms had grown tired too quickly and he'd restorted to mashing it together. He's not sure if it's any more effective, but it is enjoyable hitting the sugar-coated clumps of softened butter. A glance over at Victor seems to suggest he's having more luck with his whole, the liquid in it not looking anything like eggs anymore.

Eventually, without any help from Victor, Arius manages to turn to butter into a paste. This gets combined with Victor's bowl and Arius gets to mix again. No one had told him making cookies would have so much mixing. He might have been more inclined to just buy some. He lets Victor mix in the flour, arms tired again by the time he's finished with the new mixture.

As he's watching, Arius takes one of the chocolate chips from the bag they bought. He rolls it between his fingers first, examining the small chocolate drop first, before he pops it in his mouth. It's sweet and gone within seconds. So he takes another one and repeats the action. And another.

"There'll be none left for the cookies if you keep eating them." Victor pipes up, watching Arius in the corner of his eye. The boy looks up at him for a second before eating the chip he'd already picked up. The older man doesn't say anything more and doesn't seem to be scolding him, but Arius doesn't take anymore. Victor takes the bag soon after, pouring what remains of the chips into the bowl.

Last night had been scary. Arius was convinced Victor was done with him after he'd gone off into the bad places. Maybe that's why they're the bad places — because they make Victor upset with him. He won't be going there again. He's not even going to think about it.

"Do you want to scoop some of the dough onto the tray?" Victor asks, offering Arius the spoon. The boy is quick take the spoon, scooping out a chunk of the dough. This goes on the tray in a careful but messy slap, landing in what could be described as a vaguely circular shape. Victor doesn't offer much feedback beyond ensuring they're a few centimetres apart, letting the boy do what he wants. Before long, all the cookie dough has been lined up on the tray and all Arius can do is wait. He's given the bowl to eat the last of the uncooked dough, while Victor begins cleaning the rest up. "I was thinking, if you want, tomorrow I could show you what I do in a day... Y'know, to prepare you for being my second in command."

Arius perks up at this. If Victor is already starting to prepare him, then he must be getting better at his magic. He had thought he might be — sometimes he can make a spell work by speaking it and not just thinking it, though usually thinking works best — but having more than one person confirm it just solidifies it.

"I'd like to." Arius responds quickly before Victor can change his mind. As the older man smiles at him, the boy turns his attention to the bowl in his lap, scraping his finger across the bottom to collect a piece of the cookie dough. It's sweet but tastes plain — it just tastes like sweetness and flour. Despite this, Arius doesn't mind the taste. "How long will the cookies be?"

"Fifteen minutes, I think." Victor says, though it had been fifteen minutes a few minutes ago as well. Arius passes the bowl over to Victor and the older man doesn't eat any of the cookie dough for himself, washing it up instead. Maybe Victor doesn't like how it tastes. "Still don't want to go to school?"

Arius shakes his head firmly. The suggestion doesn't fill him with as much worry as before, but he still doesn't trust Hogwarts. They only wanted him when he was a part of the orphanage — just another empty promise. He's not falling for those anymore, not when he's had a taste of proper promises.

"Probably for the better. I hear they had a troll problem there recently."

"A troll problem?"

Victor nods his head, "A troll got into the school and attacked some students. It doesn't sound like anyone was hurt, at least." It doesn't sound like a very safe place if students can get attacked by trolls. At least in Knockturn Alley, Arius only has to worry about getting kidnapped by ladies with cookies. He's never been attacked before. All the more reason to stay away from that school.

"Do you think Hogwarts teaches students to choose what spell to use quickly?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe — it could be why no one got hurt." Arius's brow narrows into a heavy frown. He's not about to be outdone by a Hogwarts student. "You should ask Anona. She went to Hogwarts."

"Did you go to school?" Arius can't imagine Victor as a student. He can't even imagine him any younger than he is now. But he hopes he didn't go to Hogwarts — Victor is too good to have come from a school of empty promises and trolls. Anona too, but it's too late for her now.

"I did, but it was a lot different to how it is now." Arius will take it. Maybe back then there were less trolls and empty promises.

"Were you attacked by trolls then?" Victor shakes his head, confirming the younger's suspicions. "Did anyone else go to school?"

"Orym and Jedrek. Neither went to Hogwarts, though — I think Orym went to Durmstrang and Jedrek... I'm not sure where Jedrek went to school."

"Why not Hugo? He knows what students learn."

"He knows that because he read the same books that students read and listened to people who went to school. He never got an invitation." This doesn't seem fair at all. The only thing differing Arius from Hugo is the fact that the older man is quite large and Arius is quite small. Even Orym and Anona are taller than Arius and they still went to school, so it doesn't seem like height should be a factor. All the more reason to not go to Hogwarts. Hugo turned out fine so Arius will too.

"He can have my invitation if he wants." This earns a small chuckle from the older man. There's a delay in his response explaining the laughter, as he pauses to take the cookies out of the oven. While cooking, they've spread out and flattened into almost one giant cookie, the thin lines running through the cookie the only indicator that they were ever separate. They don't look like any cookie Arius has ever seen. "Are they bad?"

"I don't think so. We can just cut them up. It's whether they're edible or not that's important." The cookies might be done, but that doesn't mean they can be eaten yet. Victor places them on the bench to rest, right beside Arius. All he can smell is the sweet cookie, teasing him. "Anyway, I think Hugo is a bit old for school."

"He's better off teaching me." Victor nods his head in agreement, drumming his fingers against the bench as he turns his attention back to the cookie. They've barely been sitting there a minute and even Victor is starting to look impatient. The next minute passes in silence, both watching the cookie. Then Victor seems to decide enough time has passed for them to sit and collects a knife. Following the visible lines, he begins separate the large puddle into smaller, cookie-sized puddles. They're still misshapen, but at least they can be shared.

Arius gets the first cookie, picking a large one from the centre. It folds against his fingers, not even a centimetre thick, and looks as if it's about to break into pieces under the weight of gravity. Fortunately, the only breaking comes from Arius's teeth as he takes a bite. The cookie tastes like the dough had tasted, only warmer — the same plain sweetness, broken up by pieces of gooey chocolate.

"Good?" Victor asks, picking apart his own cookies. Arius nods his head once, not about to waste time speaking when he could be eating cookies. Sweet, he's decided, is one of his new favourite flavours. Right up there with barbecue sauce, tomatoes, and raspberry lemonade. So he takes another cookie. He's certain these are better than anything the lady could have given him, even if they are puddles. "If you've got any interest in cooking beyond this, you might need to poke Anona about that. She's better at this sort of thing than I am."

"Why?"

"Because Anona has spent her life being productive, while I spent mine feeling sorry for myself. Don't be like a younger me, ever — make the most of your situations."

"I do." Arius assures him between bites, still more focused on the cookies than anything else. Victor is barely keeping up with his pace. "I could eat a million cookies."

"Could you?" Victor sounds disbelieving, a hint of amusement laced within his tone. Arius just nods his head, taking another cookie to prove his point. Cookies are delicious.

"That lady said she'd give me cookies."

"You know not to take cookies from strangers, right?" Victor asks after a beat. Generally, Arius wouldn't take cookies from most people he doesn't like. Did he know you weren't _supposed_ to take them from strangers? No, he did not. He shakes his head, which in turn makes Victor shake his head softly. "I should have figured as much. Don't take food from strangers — you don't know what they've put in the food."

"What about if I'm starving?"

"If you're starving then you can consider it. You'll still want to be sure eating the food isn't going to be worse than starving, but those are other circumstances."

"What about the fish and chip shop? I don't know them."

"Different too. Restaurants and shops you can take food from strangers — they have to follow rules." Arius decides this seems fair. Restaurants do seem pretty clean and safe. Not like that lady. She didn't have a uniform on. Her cookies wouldn't have been as good as these ones, anyway.   
  
  
  
  
  


As it turns out, Arius probably couldn't eat a million cookies. Eating twenty in one sitting alone had been a bad idea and, as Victor claims, a million is over a thousand times that — over ten thousand, even. Arius isn't sure he'd be able to handle over ten thousand times the exhaustion he's feeling now, having spent the last few minutes unable to keep himself from laughing and wriggling around in an attempt to get out all the energy building within him. He's not sure Victor could handle it either, given he also looks tired and he didn't even eat ten cookies.

Arius might give cookies a break. It's too tiring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched Brother Bear recently so that's now stuck in my head whenever I write Arius & Victor. Feel like, maybe, it enhances their dynamic. Maybe...


End file.
